Darkness Before the Dawn
by Vinividivinci
Summary: An alternate AU story to Blue Bird. Patrick is hurt and angry Teresa didn't tell him she was moving to D.C. with Pike. Rather than stay and fight for her, he leaves. Now Teresa really can't figure out what to do.
1. Chapter 1

_**I reread a couple of stories and got my Mentalist juices back to flowing. This idea wouldn't leave, so here it is. Of course none of this is mine - I'm just borrowing the characters for a while.**_

* * *

It wasn't very often that he felt either anger or hurt. Those emotions, for the most part, had left when his wife and daughter had been killed. In fact, most emotions had fled, to be replaced only with self-hatred and guilt and the desire for revenge. Oh, it was true that he'd often felt irritated, no longer willing to let the pettiness of life and of people slide past him. But it hadn't been a deep emotion and it was one that was easily dealt with by doing something equally – or more – irritating in turn.

No, he'd refused to allow most emotions to affect him. Guilt was allowed to stay – had to stay to move him on. But nothing else could get in the way of his quest. Anger confused the mind and got in the way of purpose. As for hurt – well, there was very little that _could_ hurt him after he'd lost the only two people whom he loved.

But now he realized that he had been deluding himself all these years. He _had_ begun to feel again, and it had started the day he walked into the CBI office in Sacramento. The shell which surrounded him, which kept out emotions and caring had started to crack that very day.

True, it had taken years for the crack to grow, for the shell to break. It had started with a return of purpose – not just revenge, but of doing something worthwhile. It had started when he realized that he did have something to offer, he could do things that weren't about conning people – tricking them for his own satisfaction and profit. He solved murders and brought justice to the living. He began to feel a sense of pride in himself.

And then there was his team. At first they were good for some amusement. They helped fill the loneliness, the quiet in which all he could do was remember – remember the bloodied bodies of his wife and child.

But soon they became more than just fillers. They became real. There was Cho - stern, enigmatic – but full of courage and loyalty and a wicked sense of humor. Cho had, surprisingly, been the one most often willing to go along with his crazy schemes. Under his inscrutable exterior was the heart of an adventurer.

Rigsby – what could he say about the big guy? He was a man with a heart of gold – and much smarter than he sometimes appeared. There was also an innocence and naiveté that remained in him, even with all he had seen and done and experienced. It meant that sometimes people (Jane included) took unfair advantage of him. But through all of that Rigsby remained, in the real sense of the word, a gentle man.

Grace. Her name suited her. She was a strong woman – and had become stronger over the years. She was smart and bright and capable – yet someone with a kind and compassionate heart. She had lost some of her innocence over the years, but never her goodness.

These three had become his friends, in spite of all he had done. And because of them his own heart had opened and responded. He _liked_ them and gave them his loyalty and his friendship. The crack in his shell had grown bigger.

And then there was Teresa.

He closed his eyes and the hurt and the anger flooded through him. It had been Teresa who had saved him, who had taken him in, given him a job, protected him, stayed by him through everything. It was she who had cared whether or not he lived or died. It was Teresa who demanded the best from him, who pushed him to be a better man than he had ever been. It was she who moved him beyond hatred and guilt and vengeance and had reopened the world to him.

It was Teresa who had taught him to live again, and to love again.

And now she was leaving and his life, once more, was falling apart.

He had waited, hoping for the right moment to tell her, to show her how he felt. But before he had had the chance Pike had appeared and had swept her off her feet. He hadn't known what to do – too rusty in dealing with relationships, still too filled with self-hatred to think he deserved her.

So he had waited, and watched and hoped that she would look over at him and realize that he was here, waiting for her, loving her.

But she hadn't and now she was going away – moving on with another man, a better man than he would ever be.

And he was hurt and he was angry and the emotions almost made him collapse with the pain of them.

She hadn't even had the courage or the kindness to tell him. He'd had to find out through Cho – clearly the last and only person not to have known. The hurt blazed through his chest, almost taking his breath away.

Did he mean so little to her? He had thought she cared, that maybe there was hope for more. But no – she had finally found a man good enough for her, and in so doing had clearly left him behind.

He forced air into his lungs and then closed his eyes, trying to clear his face of any trace of the emotions coursing through him. He still had his dignity and he wasn't going to show the world that he was, once again, a broken man.

He made his way quickly up the stairs and down the hall to Abbott's office. It was early and he knew it was only the two of them in the office.

He knocked and entered at Dennis' word.

It didn't take long, or much effort, to convince the agent who he had, at one time, hated. Now he considered him a friend and felt himself lucky to be working for such an honorable man.

Of course Abbott had tried to dissuade him, had told him to _talk to her._ But he knew it was too late and too unfair. He couldn't put that burden on Teresa, even though he was angry at her for moving away from him.

So Dennis had reluctantly agreed and had wished him well – with a sad and regretful look in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, once again.

"Yes, I'm sure," he'd replied, not looking at the agent but peering beyond him, to a suddenly bleak future.

"I think you're making a mistake," Abbott told him, "but it's your decision. Please take care of yourself."

"I will," he'd responded with a crooked smile, which did not reach anywhere near his eyes. "I'll be back, don't worry."

"I don't."

Abbott watched him leave, sighing gently at the unfairness of life.

Jane walked quickly down the stairs and out the door, not wanting to run into any of his team, and especially not into Teresa. He couldn't see her and appear indifferent to the hurt she had caused – or even more, to the loss he was now feeling.

He didn't know if he could handle the loss – not again. He walked to his trailer, his throat tight with the pain of it. He'd only loved two women in his life – and he'd thrown them both away- one through his arrogance and one through his fear.

He laughed softly, although he really wanted to cry. He obviously hadn't deserved either of them.

He sat for a few minutes, staring blindly out of the window. He didn't know where to go, or what to do. But suddenly he saw her car enter the lot and took a sudden breath. He had to leave before she had a chance to approach him.

He took one last look at her car – and saw her as she drove into a parking spot. It would be the last he would ever see of her, he was sure.

With that thought he put his Airstream in reverse and was soon heading out of the lot. He didn't look in his mirror or he would have seen her standing there, watching him leave, a look of sadness and longing on her own face.


	2. Royal Screw Up

She knocked on Abbott's door and waited for his "come in" to enter.

"Lisbon," he sighed and leaned back in his chair. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh – I just saw Jane leave," she said, sounding somewhat hesitant. "Do we have a new case?"

"No," he told her, a strange look on his face.

"Oh – it's just – I wondered," she shrugged.

He suddenly leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk. "Congratulations again on the D.C. job," he told her.

"Thank you," she answered, although far from looking happy her face contracted into a frown.

"You'll do well," he told her with a small smile.

"I – I hope so. It was a hard decision. I liked working here."

"We'll really miss you, but it's a good career move. And Pike is a good guy."

"Yes," she nodded, although the frown remained on her face. "Yes he is."

She stayed quiet for a moment, but finally lifted her head and looked directly at him. "Uh – is Jane – coming back soon? I need to tell him that I'm leaving."

"You didn't tell him yet?" Abbott asked, surprised. He knew, of course, that Jane knew but was surprised that she wasn't the one who had told him she was leaving.

"No – I – it was hard," she said, sounding defensive. "We've worked together for a long time and – I didn't know how to tell him."

"Mmm," he said. No wonder Jane had been in the state he was. That had to have hurt.

"Do you know – when he'll be back?" she asked again.

"I'm afraid he's gone," Dennis said gently. "He asked for some personal time and I gave it to him. He won't be back for a couple of weeks. He didn't say where he was going."

"But – but I'll be gone by then," she told him, sounding hurt. "How could he just leave like that and not say goodbye?"

"Maybe he felt the same way," he told her gently. Her eyes got big and her face flooded with color. He felt like he had kicked a kitten, although part of him wanted her to feel bad. She had really hurt Jane.

She wanted to cry, but refused to allow herself to do so while sitting in front of her boss. With a tremendous amount of courage she sucked up her emotions and gave him a smile.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said, standing up. "I really appreciate all you've done for me. I've enjoyed working with you."

"Teresa," he stopped and sighed. It really wasn't his place to interfere in the lives of his employees, even when they were acting like fools. "Good luck with everything. And if you decide to change your mind – you're welcome to stay." There – that's all he would say to her but he hoped – for her sake and for Jane's that she would consider it.

"Thank you Sir," she told him, a small and wobbly smile on her face. With that she turned and left the room.

He sighed once more and slowly shook his head. He was thankful he had a wife whom he loved and who loved him. He wouldn't want to be going through what those two were for the world.

Teresa slowly walked back towards her desk, not sure how to feel. Part of her was numb – but she expected that would wear off soon and then she'd be – what? Angry? Hurt? Sad? Relieved?

She suspected it wouldn't be that last one, although part of her wished for it.

"Jane," she whispered to herself. "What the hell are you doing?"

* * *

What he was doing, at that precise moment, was driving out of Austin. He had no idea where he was going – wasn't even thinking of a destination. All he knew was that he hurt and he had to get away. Maybe distance would lessen the pain in his heart. Maybe if he didn't see her anymore, didn't watch her at her desk, didn't hear her say _"Jane"_ in that tone of voice, his heart would heal and he would go on.

Except he knew that wouldn't happen.

He didn't often spend a lot of time thinking about himself. For years he had hated who he was, what he had done, so the less time thinking about himself the better. But he wasn't stupid and he wasn't unaware. He knew that he wasn't a person who opened himself up to other people, who trusted, who _loved._ He'd been raised by a selfish, egotistical father who taught him to trust only in himself and to love no one.

Fortunately, he had enough of his mother in him that that lesson had stuck only partially. In fact, he had craved love and had looked for someone he could trust and someone who would love him in spite of himself.

He had found that person in Angela Ruskin. He had known her practically all his life but as she grew up he had realized that the little girl who had followed him around, had turned into a beautiful woman, both inside and out.

He'd been so very lucky that she had loved him, no matter how worthless he was. But he had thrown that love away – that, and the love of his innocent daughter – through his arrogance and pride.

And then, even though he hadn't deserved it, he had found love again. He had found another beautiful woman who stuck with him through all the stupid, reckless, cruel things he had done. The only problem was – this time, this woman didn't love him back.

He barely noticed the tears that had escaped his eyes and were running down his face. All he knew was that he had to leave – to flee – to run away from the pain that was building.

He couldn't do this again. He couldn't live through the hurt, the agony, the loss. Who was he without Teresa by his side, protecting him, standing up to him, pushing him, _demanding_ that he be the man she believed in.

Without her, he was nothing. He was just Patrick Jane – former psychic, former conman, former husband, former father – and now – nothing.

He continued to drive, knowing deep inside, that there really was nowhere to run. The pain was following closely – staying beside him and in him every mile that he drove.

* * *

"Damn him, damn him, damn him," she muttered, slamming the paper on the table.

"What's up?" Cho stood beside her desk, looking down at her with a frown.

"Jane," she said shortly.

"What did he do this time?" Cho asked, an eyebrow raised in question.

"He left," she told him, without further explanation.

"He left? Where did he go?" Cho was confused so Jane must not have said anything to him. That made her feel slightly better.

"He left on _personal_ business," she told him, putting air quotes around the _personal._

"Really? I didn't know he had any personal business."

"Oh – he's leaving because of me," she said angrily. "He's mad that I'm leaving."

"He told you that?" Cho asked, sounding surprised.

"No – he didn't say anything to me, anything at all. I just found out from Dennis."

"I – see," Cho said slowly, looking at her closely. "So he didn't take the news of your leaving well?"

She shrugged. "Obviously not."

"But – what did he say, when you told him." He decided not to tell her that he was the one who had let the cat out of the bag. He was sure, however, that she would tell him soon – or that Jane would ask her about it.

She appeared uncomfortable and avoided looking at him. She fiddled with her papers and then finally glanced up – and down again as quickly. "Uh –I didn't,"

"You didn't – what?"

"Tell him," she admitted with a defiant look.

"You didn't tell him you were leaving?" he asked her. "But you told everyone else days ago."

"I know. I was an idiot – but it was hard."

"He was hurt," Cho said, and it was a statement, not a question. He'd known Jane for a lot of years and had seen how much the man had been wounded by her silence.

"Probably," she agreed. "I was going to tell him today but – now he's gone."

Cho sighed and wished suddenly that Grace and Wayne still worked with them. As nice as Abbott and Wylie were, they weren't the family that they had had in Sacramento.

"Call him," Cho suggested. "Tell him you're sorry and why it was so hard to tell him. He'll probably come back."

"I tried," she told him. "His phone isn't working, or he has it off."

"Email," Cho said shortly.

"It seems so – impersonal."

"Better than not saying anything. Look Teresa," he finally decided to be blunt. "You're the one who hurt him and I think you're the one who has to fix this. I can't say as I blame him for leaving. He didn't deserve this." With that Cho turned and walked away. It wasn't often that he liked to interfere in his friend's lives – but this time he was totally on Jane's side.

Teresa now felt guiltier than ever. Why the hell hadn't she told him? She should have invited him out for coffee and explained. She should have told him _first!_

Why the hell had she decided to even _go_ to D.C. She stopped herself there, and took a deep breath. She'd been over this a hundred times already and had finally made the decision. She wasn't about to go back on that now.

But what to do about Jane? God – how could she have fucked this up so royally?


	3. Loss

"Teresa."

"Teresa."

" _Teresa!"_

"What?" she glanced up at – Marcus? What the hell was she doing here with him?

She blinked and took a deep breath – and suddenly realized that she didn't like the way Marcus said her name. Teresa, with a soft "s". She much preferred Jane's way – Tereza, with a z.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked. "You seem distracted."

She forced herself back to the present – to the small Italian restaurant with Marcus Pike. "Sorry," she smiled. "Long day."

"Big case?" he asked, taking a piece of crusty Italian bread from the basked in front of them.

"No – not really. Just finishing up a lot of paperwork."

"Ah," he wrinkled his nose in understanding. "No wonder you're distracted. Paperwork – the killer of brain cells!"

"Yeah," she chuckled and reached over for some bread. Jane loved this bread – she had always enjoyed watching his pleasure in the simplest of things. She wondered, for the first time, if he'd ever gone hungry as a kid. It would explain his sometimes obsession with food.

"So, it was the paperwork?" Marcus said, looking at her carefully.

"What was?" she frowned. She was having a terrible time following the conversation and wondered what was wrong with her.

"Teresa – let's eat a quick bite and then get you home. I think you need to be in bed. You're tired."

"Tired?" she looked up at him and frowned. "No, not really. It's just -", she shrugged. How could she explain?

There was silence for a few minutes during which Marcus studied her carefully. Finally, after pilfering another piece of bread, he looked over at her and spoke.

"It's Jane, isn't it?" he asked gently.

"What?" her head flew up and she practically threw the bread across the room. "Jane? What do you mean?"

"Cho told me that he left on a personal leave. Did you tell him you were coming with me to D.C."

"No," she sighed. "I think that's why he left. He was angry I didn't tell him."

Marcus grimaced slightly but then reached across and took her hand. "It was hard, I know," he told her. "I'm sure he'll get over it. Just send him an email, apologizing."

She snatched her hand back. "Do you think that's enough? An _email_?" she asked, as if it was dirty word. "We've known each other for years, been _friends_ for years, and I send him an email apology. What do I say? "Oops Jane – sorry – forgot to tell you that I'm moving to Washington with my boyfriend. Hope that's okay. Don't forget to write?"

"Hey, Teresa," he protested, "I was just trying to help. I know you feel bad – and I'm sure Jane _is_ hurt. But you yourself said you've been friends for years. I'm sure he'll forgive you. Just tell him how hard it was to say anything to him. It's _because_ you're such good friends that it was hard."

"I know," she sighed and once again took his hand. "I'm sorry Marcus. I don't mean to snap at you. I just feel so bad."

"I know you do," he squeezed her hand. "But Jane is a good guy. He'll forgive you. He probably just needs to get away for a few days and then he'll be back before we leave."

"Abbott said he'll be gone for a couple of weeks," she said, sounding despondent.

Marcus looked at her in concern, not quite sure what to say. Patrick Jane was a strange man. He rather liked him, but he was the first to admit that he didn't understand the guy. What he _did_ know, however, was that Jane was in love with Teresa. As someone who loved her too, he knew how to read the signs.

He was secretly glad, therefore, that Jane had decided to run. He'd been afraid that he'd try and sabotage his relationship with Teresa – and a good part of him had been worried that Jane would be successful.

He knew how lucky he was to have won her – although there were still times that he was unsure whether she loved him the way he loved her. He rather suspected that she had feelings – what kind and how serious he didn't know – for Jane.

Yes – he was glad the man had left the field and had conceded defeat. He didn't know if he could have competed if Jane had fought for Teresa.

"It'll be okay," he said softly. "Soon we'll be away – living in Washington and starting a great new life. In a few months maybe Jane can come for a visit."

Marcus really wished he hadn't said that as he watched the tears spring into her eyes. He breathed out silently. He just prayed that Patrick Jane stayed gone – because he knew then that the man was still, very much, a danger to him.

* * *

Jane drove for almost 18 hours straight, stopping only for gas, coffee and bathroom breaks. He still had no idea where he was heading, although by the time he pulled off into a campground – exhaustion finally catching up – he looked and saw that he was in Nevada, only a few miles outside of Vegas.

He wanted to groan. Of all the places he wanted to be in, Las Vegas had to be at the bottom of the list. He had nothing but bad memories of the place and it also brought back the guilt over having hurt Lisbon by disappearing for 6 months. If he'd been at all able to, he would have gotten back in the drivers seat and turned around. As it was, he knew he was too tired and would end up killing himself or someone else.

He checked into a campground and immediately made up the bed and fell into it, clothes and all. He was out almost immediately – exhaustion triumphing over hurt.

Sadly, that didn't last for long as insomnia, his companion and nemesis for many years, returned.

He knew, from the years of grief and guilt, that there was nothing he could do that would stop the thoughts and the sadness from swirling around in his mind. During the day he could distract himself with a million things. At night – all the distractions stopped and the emotions overwhelmed him.

He wanted to cry out at the return of pain. He had thought – had hoped – that he was healing, that the scars were deep enough, strong enough that he no longer had to live with the constant agony of loss.

But it had returned and was as sharp as ever.

At least this time he knew that the woman he loved was happy. He hadn't destroyed her. No – she hadn't _let_ him destroy her, he admitted to himself. She had chosen the better man, the better path. The fact that he was suffering like this was not her fault. It was his and he had to bear the pain alone.

"So what are you going to do now, Patrick?" he asked himself. He looked down at the cold cup of tea in his hands, wondering how it had gotten there. He frowned slightly – knowing that his mind was playing tricks on him because of tiredness and grief.

What _was_ he going to do? He could simply return and resume his life – sans Teresa – in Austin. He had friends and he could try and build a life, although right now that seemed a pretty dismal prospect.

Or, he could keep running and start a whole new life. He had two weeks before the FBI would come looking for him and he knew he could easily disappear. He could build a new identity – someone other than Patrick Jane, loser.

The only problem with that was that Abbott trusted him – had let him go without a word of warning. And Cho and Wylie would both be disappointed in him. Wayne and Grace would find out and they'd be sad.

And then there was Teresa. Maybe she would say she expected him to do something like that – or maybe – and this was more likely – she'd say his name in that sad voice and shake her head. She'd feel guilty – that by leaving she had driven him to run away and become a fugitive.

No – he couldn't do that to her. He'd return to Austin and work for the FBI. He'd try and be good – and simply solve murders. He'd close off his heart – for never again was he going to open himself to pain. He'd had his chance and he'd blown it.

He was going to give himself 2 weeks to grieve – to think of her and of all that he'd lost, and then he'd once more close off his emotions and never again feel – for feelings led only to pain.

Jane slowly put down his cup and looked around his small travelling home and sighed. He knew that not only had he lost the woman he loved – he had now lost the chance for any happiness in his life.


	4. Going Back and Moving On

_**Thank you all for the lovely reviews! I'm so glad to know there are still people out there reading The Mentalist FF. I still miss it and love reading stories that bring it back.**_

After a couple of days resting, including trying to catch up on his sleep in small increments, he decided to move on. His neighbors in the campground had been friendly – chatty and helpful and all the things he didn't want or need right now.

So, at 4 in the morning he'd pulled out of the campsite and had moved on.

In the end he decided to keep heading west to California. He hadn't been back since his return to the States and wasn't quite sure if he really wanted to go there. At this point, however, nothing would really make things better or worse so he shrugged and drove west.

He _didn't_ go to Sacramento, knowing that that would be simply adding more pain to his already suffering heart. Instead he kept on the road to Los Angeles. Maybe in a city that big he'd lose himself for a while.

It wasn't a long drive and soon he was sitting in traffic on the freeway, surrounded by the millions who called southern California home. Everything was familiar, remembered, but once more seen through the haze of grief and loss.

He pulled off the highway into the parking lot of a chain restaurant. No point sitting in traffic during rush hour when he could, instead, be sitting with a cup of tea.

He tried ordering something to eat – the "All Day Breakfast special" but only played with his food when it came. He knew he couldn't keep going on like this, that he'd already lost weight – but he still wasn't hungry.

He thought back briefly, to that horrible time so many years ago, and vaguely remembered practically starving himself to death. It had been one of the reasons he'd been committed to the mental hospital. He had been unable to eat anything – the constant picture in his mind, the blood-covered bodies of his wife and child – had caused him to choke anytime food was in sight.

He knew he couldn't allow that to happen again. He wasn't in quite that state and there was no way he would _ever_ be put in another hospital against his will. So he once more picked up his fork and managed a small bite of eggs. He had to keep going.

A couple of hours, many cups of tea, and a small amount of food later and he was once more on his way. The morning traffic had eased and he made his way west, towards the coast. He hadn't decided quite where he was going, but a part of his subconscious moved him towards home – the home he'd shared with Annie and Charly.

Almost 45 minutes later and he pulled into Malibu. He stopped at a gas station and filled up – not really needing the gas, but needing the moment to decide whether or not to continue to his house.

It was still his. Although the government had been in the process of repossessing it after he fled, his return to the US and his agreement with the FBI had stopped the process. He'd already had someone looking after the place and the taxes were paid, but he hadn't really decided what to do with it.

It might be possible to sell it now. While _he_ was still at large – still murdering and terrorizing people it would have been difficult and he hadn't wanted to, needing the reminder to keep going. But now – well, people's memories were short and there were even people who would relish the history. Or, there were those wealthy enough to simply tear the place down and build again. The property was extremely valuable, with views and access directly to the ocean.

It was one thing he missed about being in Austin, he thought as he turned down the road towards his house. He'd always loved the water – the sound of it, the smell, the power that made everything else seem distant, small, unimportant.

Angela had also loved the ocean. Maybe it had been something that grew in both of them after their years travelling to small, dusty towns with small people and small minds. They had both needed the feeling of space and freedom and the long vistas of clean blue sky and water. Here there was no pretense, no falsehoods, no lying. Instead there was only raw nature.

And yet he'd still managed to sully their home with his lying and cheating. He'd set up a platform that overlooked the ocean and had held many of his sessions there, bringing in marks for the con. Annie had hated it and had begged him to change his ways.

It would be his life-long regret that he hadn't listened to her.

He sighed as he pulled into the driveway and stopped the Airstream. He sat for a few moments, contemplating the home he'd shared with his family. It was a whole other life ago now – yet the memories flooded back as if it were yesterday.

* * *

"Is she okay?" Wylie whispered to Cho, his eyes on Teresa. "She seems like there's something wrong."

"Yeah, there is," Cho looked up briefly from the coffee he was stirring and glanced towards the woman he'd worked with for so many years, "she's missing Jane."

"That's what I figured," the young agent and tech-wiz said. "Where is he, anyway? Abbott just said he was taking some some personal leave."

Cho shrugged. "Don't know. He'll be back."

"But she's leaving in a few days. I thought they were friends."

"So did I," Cho muttered softly. "So did Jane." With that he picked up his coffee and headed back towards his desk. He wasn't about to get involved – nothing ever good came from that – but for once, he wanted to. He just wished Jane would let him know where he was. He worried about the man.

Wayne had checked in with him a few times every day and he'd even gotten a couple of notes from Grace. They too were worried, about both Jane and Teresa. Wayne had even suggested calling Teresa but he'd warned the man away from doing that.

They had to let her make her own decision, even if none of them agreed with her. Cho had learned long ago it was never wise to interfere in people's personal lives – and he was positive that was especially true with Teresa Lisbon and Patrick Jane.

He shook his head and sighed. They were both too stubborn for their own good – and both of them completely blind. He really wished Jane were here right now because he'd love to knock their heads together and then leave them to figure it out.

Just then Marcus Pike walked into the room and headed immediately towards Teresa's desk. Both Cho and Wylie stopped and looked over at the handsome agent – both of them thinking he was not nearly the man for Teresa that Jane was.

A moment later both of them returned to what they were doing, leaving Marcus and Teresa a modicum of privacy in the open room.

"Hey," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder and giving her a smile. "Just about ready to head out?"

"Uh," she frowned and looked around at her paper-covered desk. She'd been trying to get some things wrapped up before she left but hadn't accomplished much of anything. Her mind was just not on work.

"Sorry – I didn't realize it was so late," she told him, pulling all the papers together and stacking them neatly. She could continue tomorrow. "Where are we going?"

"Someplace casual?" he suggested. "I had a busy day and I wouldn't mind having a quick dinner and then heading back to your place for an evening in. Sound okay?"

She looked at him blankly for a few seconds and then shook her head – not at him, but at herself. She hated how out of it she felt. "Uh – that would be okay, but everything is in boxes. My place is a mess. Why don't we just do dinner and then I think I would like an early night. It's not you," she told him quickly when she saw his frown appear, "I'm just exhausted with getting ready for the move."

He nodded, doubting that that was what it was, but not having the courage to press her on it. She was still planning to move with him to Washington and he didn't want to do anything to pressure her or make her change her mind.

"Sure," he told her. "I could probably do with an early night myself. Although I still have some packing to do so maybe I'll finish up tonight. It's going to be great to finally be done all of this and start our new life in D.C." He looked at her hopefully but she simply smiled, nodded and stood up and grabbed her purse.

"I'm heading out Cho," she called. "See you tomorrow. Wylie," she nodded at the young man. Both said goodnight and a moment later she was gone.

"Do you think she really wants to go to D.C?" Wylie asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Nope," Cho answered, "but she doesn't know that yet."

Wylie looked at him strangely and then glanced over at Jane's couch. He was still young, still inexperienced when it came to love and relationships – but somehow he agreed with Cho. He was pretty sure Agent Lisbon was making a big mistake.


	5. The Point

He sat for a long time, contemplating his house but also finally letting the memories wash over him. For all the times he'd been here, he'd never allowed those memories to surface. Instead he'd focused purely on his last memory and the picture of the smiley face on the wall where the horror had taken place.

But now, finally, he remembered. He remembered bringing Angela to the house, her eyes blindfolded until he'd led her out of the car. He'd whipped off the blindfold, almost like a magician doing a show, and had shown her their new life.

She had laughed and hugged him, but then had scolded him for splurging on such a house. She'd grown up poor, like him, and money was always carefully watched and kept for that rainy day.

But he no longer believed in rainy days – not then. Life was good. He was happy, successful and had money to spare. He had a beautiful wife and a child on the way. What could go wrong?

The two of them had been like children – shopping and buying furniture and supplies for their new home, their new life. Angela had loved to create a beautiful home – her first – for him and for the child as yet unborn.

She had created warmth and comfort and safety in this house. He remembered coming home, on the days he worked away, always happy, always anticipating walking in and seeing her, the beautiful smile on her face. For the first time in his life he had a _home_ a place that didn't move, that was secure and safe.

Patrick Jane was finally happy.

And then came Charlotte – the pink, squalling bundle of fierce cries and twinkling eyes. He had fallen in love the moment she'd been placed in his arms. He'd cried – knowing that life could get no better. His life was complete.

And he was going to be the best father and husband there was. He was going to love and protect his family and they'd be happy together in this home.

And he'd caused it to all come crashing down.

He sighed and finally exited the Airstream. He made his way slowly to his house and with a silent breath he took out his key and opened the door. A moment later the relatively new security system was turned off and he contemplated the inside of his home.

He hadn't really looked around the house, even during the time he would infrequently return. He always made his way directly to the room, _that_ room and stayed there. He would use the bathroom and occasionally make a cup of tea in the kitchen, but everything else he ignored.

Now he stood looking, and slowly began to make his way through the house.

There is where Charlotte took her first steps. He stopped and contemplated the spot in the living room. Over there, at the base of the stairs, was where he'd placed the grand piano – a birthday present for Angela, who loved to play.

Over here – he took a few steps – was his study. It had been full of books and maps and pictures of places all over the world. It had been the place where he could dream and learn and imagine, a place where his never-quiet brain could be enriched and expanded. Angela had always laughed at him, telling him he really should have been a university professor rather than a con artist. He rather thought he would have enjoyed that life.

He finally wandered over to the back of the house – to the window that had the views to the ocean. He hadn't stepped near this window since it had happened – not wanting to remember, to look out and see _their_ place.

But now he looked, and he remembered. He allowed Angela's face to come into view – clearly and fully for the first time in many years. He allowed himself to remember Charlotte's laugh, her cries of "Daddy, pick me up," "Daddy, play wif' me," Daddy, tickle me!"

A sob escaped from his chest – he missed her, them, so much!

"Annie," he cried, "what am I going to do?"

He didn't expect an answer – he never expected one. He knew she was gone – dead – no longer part of this or any other life. But this time, for some reason, he felt as if she had heard him. He was compelled to move to the back door, to open it and head to their place.

He paused briefly, wondering if he could deal with this. Could he handle the pain? With another small sob he was propelled forward until he came upon the rock. He stared at it for a few seconds, and then allowed the memories, allowed Annie, to wash over him.

They had found it their first day exploring the property. There was a small promontory that overlooked the ocean – different and more secluded than the large one on which he built the platform. This one was small, and private and they both knew, instantly, that it was theirs.

They sat side-by-side on the rock, looking out at the beautiful sunset. The pinks, and purples and reds of the sky just caressed the pale blue to gray sea. It had been a magical moment, a truly magical place - and he had turned to Ter – he shook his head, he had turned to _Annie_ and had kissed her.

"I love you more than you will ever know," he had whispered to her.

She had laughed and touched his cheek with tenderness. "Oh, I know my love. You tell me in so many ways. And I love you just as much."

Was it true? Had he told her in enough ways that she _truly_ knew how much she meant to him? He had tried to – he told her in words, he bought her things, he took her places – but had it been enough? Had she truly known?

A soft breeze suddenly blew through the trees, causing the leaves to rustle and the wind to sigh.

 _Yes, I knew my love_ – was heard through the soft sighing of the wind.

He collapsed onto the rock, in pain – but also in relief. He bent over and clutched his chest, not sure if he would survive this moment. But he had told her, and she had known. She had known she was loved and had loved him in return. He hadn't just been lucky. He had helped create his life. He had known what he wanted, needed and that was the love of a good woman. And he had gone after it and had loved her and told her - and in return he got everything.

 _So why are you sitting here now?_ Annie's voice again spoke on the breeze. _Why haven't you told her?_

Because he was a coward. Because he was afraid – afraid that if he once again loved and was loved then he could lose it all, _would_ lose it all. He would do something and he would lose her.

 _But you did nothing and you lost her anyway,_ the soft wind voice continued.

And that stopped him dead. He could barely swallow, barely breathe – but his heart was racing so fast it almost flung itself off the cliff into the Pacific.

What had he done? So terrified of loving her and losing her, he had thrown his chance away.

He groaned and again clutched his chest and rocked back and forth. What an idiot he had been – _again_. What a stupid, stupid fool. He hadn't even tried, and here he was, thinking that his life was over.

He wished someone had thrown a glass of water at his face. No, he wished that someone had slapped him – had come up to him and threatened to shoot him if he didn't stop acting so stupidly. He wished Teresa – his Teresa – had told him not to be a fool.

But she couldn't because he'd been a coward and hadn't let her know how he was feeling. Once more he had kept things from her, hidden things – and like always, it was that, that had gotten him into trouble.

 _So what are you going to do about it idiot?_ He looked up, startled. This time the wind sounded like Danny. And what the hell _he_ was doing here Jane had no idea.

 _Tell her Patrick. Tell her._

 _Yes Daddy – tell her. She's nice. I like her._

Now he was officially going mad. Angela and Charlotte were dead and Danny – hell, who knew where he was. It was just his mind, his imagination talking to him.

 _Don't be a fool, Jane. Tell her._ Cho? What the hell?

At that he stood up. Once Cho got into things he knew he was doomed. He wondered briefly where Rigsby and Grace's voices were – but decided to head back before he actually heard them.

He'd gotten the point.


	6. Courage

Jane went out and bought groceries – more than he could probably eat. He fixed himself a big meal and ate the whole thing in one sitting. It wasn't that he was feeling so much better, but now there was a glimmer – just a tiny bit – of hope and he needed to be well, to be strong if he was going to do what he knew he had to do. He needed to eat and to sleep.

He was going to tell her.

He didn't know if it would make a difference. She would probably tell him it was too late, or that she had never thought of him that way. But at least he would have tried. At least he would have forced himself to grab on to hope, rather than to fear.

If she said no – and he was pretty sure she would – then he would again feel the loss, the pain – but he would know that he had tried, that he had showed some speck of courage and a willingness to live again.

But how to tell her? He could drive back, but it would be close. He didn't know if he could do another 18 hour stint of driving.

There was always the option to fly – but that would make him look rather pathetic, especially since he'd have to fly back and retrieve the Airstream – not only his means of transportation, but his home.

He sighed. There was one option left and it wasn't the best. Still, time was short. She was leaving soon for D.C. and if he didn't do something hope would disappear.

Once she moved there and committed to a life with Pike, any chance he had would be gone.

He finished his meal, cleaned up and once more looked over his house. He hated that it was empty, barren of things, of life. Maybe it was time to sell it and allow a new family to enjoy the space, and the views. He was sure some new couple would discover that rock and claim it as theirs.

So he'd better get his act together, his courage up. He needed to be brave, to be bold – to have the balls to do this. He needed to screw his courage to the sticking point and just – do it!

A few minutes later and he couldn't help but recognize the irony. He'd finally decided to call – and his phone was nowhere to be found.

He searched everywhere in the Airstream, but it wasn't there. He scowled, trying to remember the last time he had used it. He knew he hadn't called anyone since leaving Austin – in fact he'd intentionally _not_ called anyone. So where could it be?

Finally he shrugged, knowing there was no use. He must have lost it somewhere – or maybe it was back in Texas. Wherever it was, it was gone and he'd have to replace it. He had a brief moment where he wondered if maybe Teresa had tried to call him – but then shook his head. She was probably glad to see the back of him.

With that depressing thought he drove to the nearest store to purchase a pay-as-you-go phone. He returned home and plugged it in.

A couple of hours later and the battery was charged – there was now no excuse not to call.

He stood looking at the empty living room in his house and knew, suddenly, that here was not the place to make the call. He made his way outside, towards the rock. That is where he'd come face to face with his cowardice – and the fact that he'd thrown something precious away. This was where he would be brave and talk to her.

He slowly sat down and watched the brilliant blue of the Pacific Ocean. It was so beautiful here. Suddenly he missed California and the CBI and his friends and the life he'd built here, before his final act of vengeance.

With a sigh he lifted his new phone, and began to dial.

There was no answer.

He hung up rather than leave a message – not sure what to say to a recording. He tried to think what she would be doing, and realized that she could still be at work. If they had a case they often worked late.

Should he call her later, when she was home? But what if she was out with Marcus – or even worse, what if he was staying the night and she answered with him beside her?

"Stop it!" he hissed at himself as a breeze suddenly blew up and reminded him of what he had to do. Just call and leave a message – that was probably better anyway.

He dialed the phone and waited for the beep.

* * *

Teresa let her head fall back onto the bath pillow and closed her eyes. She was so tense, so wound up that she had decided to take a hot bath to try and relax. Music was playing and she had a glass of wine on the edge of the tub. But neither of those things seemed to be helping.

Where was he? What was he doing? God – she hoped he was okay. She didn't blame him for being hurt, but did he have to run away and hide.

She snorted. It was typical Jane – running away rather than facing hard truths. Well, he had made the decision to leave and not speak with her again – so she needed to just forget him.

She had Marcus now, and he was a good man. He was handsome and smart and had a good career. He was kind and gentle and – and he loved her. She would be fine with him. She would have a good life, a content life. She should go with him to D.C. because it was the smart thing to do.

She took a sip – then a bigger gulp of wine. Yes, Marcus was a good man. He didn't lie to her or trick her.

But he didn't make her laugh.

He didn't run off and leave her wondering and scared, sure that he was in trouble or hurt.

But he didn't make her feel as if she were the only important person in his life.

He didn't embarrass her in front of important people.

But he didn't see through those people or call out the wicked and he didn't do all he could to help the innocent or the wounded.

Marcus was a _good_ man, an honest man, a kind man. But was he the man for her?

She took another sip of wine and lay in the warm water, her eyes closed, her body still and her mind and heart in turmoil.

* * *

"Teresa? Hi, it's me – uh – Jane. I'm sorry you're not in – or maybe you don't want to talk to me. If that's the case, I understand. I wanted to call and tell you that I'm sorry for running away. I know you hate it when I do that. I just – I – I was hurt and angry and so I left. But it was a stupid thing to do – I know that now." He paused, knowing he didn't have much longer.

"Look – I need to speak with you. There's something I need to say. I don't know when exactly you're leaving Austin, but I hope you'll wait until I'm back. I'm at my house in Malibu, so send me a message – a text or call – and let me know so that I can make it back in time." He stopped again and took a breath.

"I know you don't owe me anything Teresa but please – just let me speak to you at least once and say what I have to say. After that – if you want to leave, I'll understand."

He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed. "I'm sorry Teresa – and I hope to see you soon. Bye."

He clicked off the phone and slowly lowered his hand into his lap. He watched as the sun started its descent into the ocean. He waited, hoping to hear another message on the breeze, but this time there was only silence. Silence – and fear – and hope.

He let out a long, slow breath and stood. He turned towards his house, knowing it was time to leave. He stopped only once, and looked back, as a small, warm breeze ruffled his hair.

"Goodbye Annie," he breathed. "I love you. Give Charlotte a kiss for me." With a small, crooked smile he turned and walked forward, not back.

It didn't take him long to once again close up his house. He packed up some of the food he'd purchased and carried it to the Airstream. Then, with one final look, one final goodbye, he climbed into the trailer and set off for Austin.

Traffic was still heavy from end of the day rush hour. The sun was almost gone but still people were returning from work. Rather than stick to the Pacific Coast Highway, which was back-to-back cars, he decided to travel north through the mountains before hitting the freeway.

He was thinking about Teresa and what she'd do when she got his message. Knowing her, she was feeling guilty about not telling him, and he hoped that would make her stay and wait for him to return. He glanced at his phone, but there was still no message. The more time went on, the more nervous he became.

But this was Teresa, he thought. She would do the right –

Suddenly, lights appeared at his side, blinding him. A moment later there was a horrendous scream of tires and metal hitting metal.

And Patrick Jane knew no more.

* * *

Teresa got out of the bath and dried herself off. She felt no better now than she had before her long soak and her head was fuzzier, not clearer, from all the wine she'd drunk.

She glanced at her watch, as she put it back on, to see that it was almost 9:00 o'clock. Marcus had wanted to come over again that night, but she'd dissuaded him. She didn't know why but she needed to be alone.

She knew he was bothered by it and she felt guilty.

Hell, she felt guilty about everything right now! "Men!" she snorted as she threw her towel across the room. "The most irritating, frustrating, obnoxious creatures ever! Put on this earth just to torment me!"

She stomped her way into her bedroom and flung herself down on her bed. To be fair, Marcus wasn't particularly irritating or frustrating, and he certainly wasn't obnoxious."

But he was also not very interesting, a small, mean voice whispered in her ear. You'll be bored in a month, the voice continued.

"Aaargh!" she yelled, throwing her pillow this time. "Stop it!" she told that little voice. "I am making a _good_ decision – a smart, mature, _wise_ choice so just – shut up!"

She hauled herself up to get her pajamas on – refusing to think anymore about Washington or Marcus or – or irritating men! She had made the right choice and she needed to accept that and _stop going crazy!_

As she moved past her nightstand she could see her phone blinking. Damn – she hadn't heard it ring. She hoped it wasn't a new case – although that damn voice whispered that she would rather it was that than Marcus calling her.

She was a horrible woman. She picked up her phone and hit the icon for her voice mail.

"Teresa? Hi, it's me – uh – Jane. …"

She played the message over and over – hoping that he'd say something new, something different if she played it again.

What the hell does he mean? What does he want to say to her? Should she wait for him? She was leaving in two days with Marcus. They had decided to drive up to D.C., rather than fly. They were having a going away party for her tomorrow night. But now – what should she do?

Stay and talk to him you idiot, that crazy-ass voice told her. You already hurt him once so you can't just leave without talking to him!

But what was he going to say to her? Her heart was beating way too fast, and her palms were sweating. She refused to guess – or to hope. He probably just wanted to say goodbye and tell her – tell her what?

She yelled and threw herself down on her bed. There was no way in hell she was going to sleep now! Finally, however, she picked up her phone. She knew what she had to do.

 _Supposed to be leaving day after tomorrow_ , she texted. _But will wait for you to return. And I'm sorry for not telling you._

She looked at the message for a long time, but then finally – slowly – reached for the send button. She hit it with her thumb, and then let out a long breath. Suddenly, she could hardly wait to see him.

The next morning she dragged herself into work. She hadn't slept a wink the night before and knew she must look terrible. The last few days had been incredibly stressful and she felt lost and unsure of herself.

She'd been surprised and disappointed not to hear back from Jane. She was sure he would have texted that he got her message and was on his way. Maybe he was somewhere with no cell service? Except he had said he was at his house, and surely he had reception in Malibu?

Oh well – she shouldn't worry about it. She sat at her desk and looked at the piles of paper that seemed to have reproduced over night. With a sigh she pulled them forward. It was going to be a long day.

"Teresa, Cho, Wylie – can you all come to my office please?" A serious looking Abbott was standing in the bullpen, waiting for them to follow him. Teresa looked over at Cho, wondering what was going on. He shrugged, indicating he had no idea either.

The three of them followed the senior agent and he told them all to sit. He then leaned back against his desk, a somber expression on his face.

"I just had a phone call," he told them, "from the police in Thousand Oaks California. Jane was in a serious accident last night, and has been taken to West Hills Hospital." He stopped, and it was only then that Teresa realized that Dennis appeared half in shock. Instantly her mouth grew dry and her heart stopped.

"How is he?" she asked, surprised that her voice would even work.

He turned to her, his eyes full of compassion. "They don't know if he's going to make it."


	7. Contusions of the Heart

"What? No, no. It can't be him. He's coming back – it can't be him." She stumbled and would have fallen, except that Cho grabbed her and put his arm around her.

"We're sure it's him?" he asked Abbott.

"Yes. It took them a while to identify him and figure out who to contact," he told them. "But it is him."

"What happened?" It was Cho who again asked. Teresa was holding on to him, her face white with shock. Wylie too was pale and quiet.

"A drunk driver smashed into him – right on the driver's side. Uh – they're trying to determine next of kin. Do either of you know who that would be?"

Teresa shook her head, still struggling to comprehend what had happened. "No – he doesn't have anyone," she said. "No close family anyway. We're – we're his family. But – does that mean they don't think he's going to survive?"

"I think it's just standard procedure, Teresa," Dennis told her. "I wouldn't worry about that. But – he does need someone with him. He shouldn't be alone."

"Of course not." Suddenly she pulled away from Cho and took a deep breath. "I want to go. I'm the closest he has to family."

"Of course." Dennis answered, expecting no less. He then glanced at Cho. "Kimbell, unfortunately I don't think I can let you go too, although I know you'd like to. We just got handed a big case and I can't justify being short staffed."

"I understand," Cho nodded, although he didn't look happy. "I'll call Wayne and Grace. Maybe one of them can go and be with you Teresa."

"Yes – that would be great – thanks," she muttered, still too shocked to have anything really registere.

"I've already looked into flights," Abbott told her. "There's one leaving in a few hours. I'm afraid I took the liberty of calling Marcus and he's on his way down. He'll take you home to get some things and then take you to the airport."

"Okay," she nodded. "Thank you. You said – they don't know…?"

"I don't have too many details right now, unfortunately. He lost a lot of blood, that I do know, and I guess it didn't look good at first – but he made it through the night, so there's hope."

"Through the night?" Cho asked.

"It happened last evening. One of the men in the car that hit him pulled him out, but his Airstream caught on fire and almost everything was destroyed. It took some time before they could identify the vehicle and track down the registration."

"He's gonna hate that," Wylie said, speaking for the first time. "I mean – I know it doesn't really matter, but he loved that Airstream."

"We'll get him another one," Abbott said, "and even better one." That caused Wylie, who looked as if he was going to cry, to nod and attempt a smile.

"He'll be okay, Agent Lisbon," Wylie then told her. "Agent Abbott is right. Jane is tough. He's a survivor!"

She thanked both of them, although unfortunately their words didn't mean much to her – not right now. Still, they were good friends.

"I'd better go," she said finally. "I'll – I'll let you know when I get there."

"Take care Teresa," Dennis told her gently. "Jane's tough and I'm sure he'll make it. It's good that you'll be with him."

Cho gave her a hug. "He'll make it. Jane is way too stubborn to die. Before we know it he'll be driving the hospital staff crazy!"

She laughed at that –through her tears, but then reached out and gave Kimball another hug. She knew he was just as upset but held things in better. "I wish you could come with me," she whispered.

"Me too. But you'll be there, and that's the most important thing. Just keep me informed."

She nodded, gave him one final hug and then turned and headed to her desk, afraid that she was about to break down. It had hit her hard, the fact that Jane had no family and she had been about to leave him and move away. Maybe it should be Cho who went to see him.

A moment later Marcus arrived, and simply put his arms around her and held her. That did it and she broke down in tears.

She couldn't lose him – not now – not after everything he'd been through. To survive all that had happened over the last dozen years – to survive a serial killer – and then be killed by a drunken driver. It couldn't happen, it _shouldn't_ happen.

"Come on – let's get you home and packed and then to the airport. I'm coming with you."

"What?" She leaned back and looked at him through her tears. "No - you don't need to do that."

"Of course I do Teresa. I love you and I'm here for you. You can't do this alone."

She nodded, suddenly relieved that she wouldn't be alone. She was terrified that she would get there and he would be gone. "Thank you," she said softly, leaning forward and again letting him hold her.

Things happened quickly after that. She had almost no time, but managed to throw a few things in an overnight bag and then they were off to Marcus' apartment, where he too put together a small suitcase. They called a cab and were soon on their way to the airport.

The flight was hard. They were in the air for 3 ½ hours with no contact with the outside world. All she could think of was that they'd arrive in Los Angeles, to be told that he was gone.

"Hang on Jane," she whispered. "Just hang on!" Marcus reached over and took her hand, but after a few minutes she pulled it away. She was too nervous, too frightened and feeling too guilty to accept any comfort.

She was practically sick with nerves by the time they arrived. As soon as they landed Marcus called Abbott, to see if he'd heard anything.

"He's still hanging in," he told her as soon as he hung up. "The doctors said that the more time passes the better the prognosis, although he's still in danger."

"Bosco didn't die right away," she said abruptly. "He lived for almost a day after being shot, and then he died."

"Teresa – don't think about that. He'll be okay."

"You don't know that," she told him as they walked to a cab. "You don't know if he'll live."

"Teresa!" he reached over to take her hand, but she pulled it away. She couldn't take any comfort right now. She had treated Jane horribly, and now he might die, and she'd never get the chance to tell him she was sorry. She would never get the chance to hear what he had to say.

She was silent the rest of the way to the hospital. It was almost an hour's drive from the airport, and all she did was stare out the window, yet she didn't see anything. Her mind was going around in circles. Jane was going to die, and she'd never know what he wanted to say to her.

They finally arrived, and it was Marcus who found out where to go. They headed immediately to the fourth floor with the ICU wing. It took a few minutes while he hunted up someone to talk to – while Teresa waited, sure that they were too late. Eventually Marcus returned.

"He's still alive," he told her first thing. "He's in the ICU and his doctor is coming down to talk to us."

At that her legs collapsed from under her, and she would have fallen if it wasn't for Marcus catching her. He helped her to a chair and ran to get a glass of water.

"Take it easy Teresa," he told her gently. He squatted down beside her and handed her a cup. "Here, take a drink. He's going to be okay, you'll see."

"Did they tell you that?" she asked, pushing away the cup. "Did they say he was going to be okay?"

"No, they didn't say anything – just that they were going to have the doctor come and speak with us. He should be here right away."

"Oh God- that means bad news."

"Teresa, you've got to stop this," he said sharply. "We don't know anything yet, and there's no point imagining the worst. Jane is strong, he's a fighter and the fact that he's still alive is good."

"I know," she said, lowering her head into her hands. "I'm sorry. It's just – he doesn't deserve this. He's had too many tragedies in his life and now – it's not fair Marcus, it's just not fair."

"No, I know," he said softly, reaching out and moving her hair out of her face. "It'll be okay – and I'll stay with you."

"Thank you," she looked up and tried to smile. "I don't deserve you, you know," she told him. "You're such a good man."

"Teresa, I _love_ you. Of course I'm going to be with you through this. You can count on me."

"Yes, I know," she said, breathing out slowly and leaning back and closing her eyes. All of a sudden she was so tired, so very tired.

"Are you here for Patrick Jane?"

"Yes, we are," Marcus answered quickly and stood and faced the gray-haired man dressed in a white lab coat who had just entered the small waiting room. "I'm Marcus Pike, and this is Teresa Lisbon," he said, reaching out and shaking the Doctor's hand.

" _You're_ Teresa Lisbon," the Doctor asked, quickly shaking Marcus' hand but looking towards her.

"Yes," she frowned. "That's me."

"Good," he smiled. "I'm Dr. Walden and I've been the one treating Mr. Jane."

"How is he?"

"Here, let's sit down and I'll explain," he said gently – which immediately made her sure that it was bad. She waited impatiently while they all took their seats. Before she had a chance to say anything, Marcus jumped in.

"Uh Doctor - you seemed to know Teresa's name. May I ask why?" he asked.

"She's listed as Mr. Jane's next of kin," the Doctor told him.

"Really? Teresa, did you know?"

"His next of kin? No – I – I didn't have any idea. He never told me."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Walden said. "I just assumed you would know. We only found out just a little while ago when we spoke with his insurance company. Are you family?"

"No, I'm just a friend," she said. "He doesn't have any family."

"Ah, I see," he said, nodding his head.

"Please, how is he?" Teresa couldn't take any more delay. She needed to know.

"Well, Mr. Jane is still in critical condition," he told them. "He lost a lot of blood and suffered several internal and external injuries. We had to go in and repair a number of things, but we think the surgery went well."

"What are his injuries?"

"He has four broken ribs, one of which punctured his left lung. His left kidney received some severe lacerations and we're watching it closely. For now he hasn't lost it, but we're keeping an eye on it and we have him on dialysis. If it doesn't improve in the next 24 hours, we may have to remove it."

"But he'll be okay?" she said. "He can survive on one kidney, right."

"Yes, he can," he agreed. "Unfortunately that's not all. His aorta was nicked in the accident, causing him to lose a significant amount of blood. We've repaired it, but we won't know the effects of the blood loss until he wakes up."

"Effects?" she frowned. "You mean – brain damage?"

"Possibly, although all the tests so far are positive, so hopefully we won't have to worry about that. He will be pretty anemic for a while, though, until we can build his blood supply back up." The Doctor watched her carefully, but when it was clear she seemed to be handling the news, he began again.

"The thing we're actually most worried about right now is his heart," he told her gently. "He suffered a myocardial contusion, which we're monitoring closely but at this point we're not sure how serious it is."

"A – what?"

"His heart was bruised," he explained more simply. "It's not uncommon in car accidents and it's treatable but we have to watch it because it can be serious."

"But you don't know how serious it is. What if it is – really serious?"

"It can be life-threatening," he told her gently. "But for now things look okay. We have Mr. Jane on medication and he seems to be holding his own."

"Oh God," she said, feeling weak. "Is that – tell me that's all?" she begged.

"I'm sorry – there is more, although the other things aren't as serious. It was a bad accident and the other car ran into him directly. The only thing that saved him was that he was sitting up higher than in a normal car. If he'd been lower -" Walden stopped there, not needing to continue as all of them understood. Jane had been lucky.

"You said there was more," Marcus interjected. "What else?"

"He has a broken left arm – both the radius and ulna, and the tibia of his left leg. Fortunately the breaks were clean and didn't require surgery. Other than that he has lots of contusions and cuts and scrapes. Our main concerns right now are his heart and kidney although the number of injuries – even the less serious ones – have combined to make him a very, very sick man."

"Is he going to make it?" Teresa asked bluntly. She knew she probably sounded harsh, but she had to prepare herself if he wasn't going to survive. She had to know.

The Doctor sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I'm afraid that's a question I can't answer," he told her. "In some cases, there is nothing we can do and I can give a definite answer. In this case – well, he's a fighter and it's been almost 24 hours, which is a good sign. Every hour that goes by, without any complications, the more likely he will be to survive. At this point we're watching him closely – and I'm afraid that's all we can do and all I can tell you."

She nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate your honesty. When can I see him?"

"As his next-of-kin you can see him any time. All we ask is that you leave when and if asked to by the staff. They may need access to him quickly and so you'll have to listen to them."

"I understand. Thank you Dr. Walden. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to us."

"No problem," he smiled and stood tiredly. "It's always better when patients have someone with them who cares. It improves their prognosis. I'll have one of the nursing staff come and show you to his room. And just have a nurse page the doctor on duty if you have any other questions. I'll be leaving shortly, but Dr. Sariana will be here and she's an excellent trauma physician."

With that he said goodbye and was soon gone. Less than a minute later a nurse appeared. "Teresa Lisbon?"

"That's me."

The nurse smiled. "Hi, I'm nurse Alvarez. I can take you to Mr. Jane's room now, if you're ready?"

Teresa turned quickly to Marcus. "He needs somebody with him."

"Of course," he nodded. "I'll take our things and go check into a hotel," he told her. "Call me if you need anything – or if there's any news. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She gave him a wobbly smile and then leaned forward and kissed him lightly. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd have done without you."

"No thanks needed. Now go – see Jane - and tell him from me to get better!"

"I will," she smiled, and watched as he headed to the elevator. She then turned to the nurse. "I'm ready to see him now."

"He looks pretty rough," Nurse Alvarez warned her. "There are a lot of machines, but they're there to help him so don't worry." The nurse eyed her carefully and Teresa wondered what that was about. A moment later she knew.

"Are you – uh – Mr. Jane's friend, or a family member?" she asked. Marcus presence had probably confused her.

"Both," Teresa smiled. "At least I'm the closest thing to family he's got. And yes – he's my best friend."

That caused Nurse Alvarez to smile. "Good! Then having you here will make a big difference. Patients know."

Teresa nodded, although she felt like a fraud. It was true that Jane was her best friend – but she could not claim that she was his, not after the way she had treated him. But that was going to change.

They arrived at Jane's ICU room and she stepped inside, terrified at what she'd find.

"O God Jane," she whispered when she saw him. She took hold of the cross around her neck and said a silent prayer. He looked so hurt, so vulnerable – so _sick._ She really doubted, at that moment, that he was going to survive.

This time it was her heart that felt like it was breaking.


	8. Reflections

_**Thank you, so much, to all of you taking the time to review. I love your comments, thoughts and reflections!**_

 _ **Many of you have indicated you felt the Lisbon in the 6**_ _ **th**_ _ **season was OOC. I agree – I always hated the Pike arc – not because he was a bad guy, but the whole plot felt artificial. I freely admit, however, that more than Pike, I really detested the character of Kim. They obviously wanted to try to bring in a love interest – other than Teresa – for Jane, but it really didn't work – and I found her rather tedious!**_

 _ **So – I've rewritten things the way I want to see them – and notice that Kim is absent in my story!**_

 _ **Thanks again – and I hope everyone is still enjoying!**_

If they hadn't told her this was Jane, she never would have known. The left side of his face was bruised and swollen, the area around his eye completely black and purple. He was on a respirator, and there was tape around his mouth, keeping the tube in place.

He was connected to so many wires and tubes it was almost impossible to find any inch of skin. His arm and leg were both in a cast and she could see the top of the bandages under the blanket that covered his chest. The only thing that gave any clue to his identity was the messy riot of blond curls on the top of his head.

An unexpected but short burst of laughter welled up at that, but she immediately covered her mouth and looked around, feeling guilty for the inappropriate reaction. Although even she knew it was nerves, not humor, that had caused it.

She stepped closer to the bed and noted that his head was one area that seemed to have escaped much damage. His face was scraped and bruised, but other than a few small smudges of blood in his hair, there didn't seem to be any major wounds. For that she was extremely grateful.

She pulled up the one, uncomfortable looking chair and practically fell into it. She was so overwhelmed she didn't quite know how to feel now that she was with him. It was horrible seeing him like this, and she was terribly frightened for him, but at the same time she felt better now that she was here. She knew there really wasn't anything she could do, but being beside him made her feel like somehow she could keep him safe.

"You got yourself into another mess I see, Jane," she said softly, but then immediately shook her head. What was she doing? She leaned forward and gently, and carefully took his right hand in hers. "I'm sorry – this isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong, and it's so unfair that you're here. But don't worry – the doctors and nurses are taking good care of you, and I'm here and won't go anywhere."

There was no response, of course. She hadn't expected any, but still, it bothered her to see him so still, so unresponsive. She had a quick flashback to the time he'd drowned. He'd actually been dead for a few minutes and the way he looked now reminded her of that time.

"But you're going to be okay, just like you were then. You will _not_ die, do you hear me? Because if you do I'll – I'll follow you to the beyond and shoot you!" There was no response and she wanted to cry.

For the next few minutes she simply watched him and listened to the _whoosh_ of the respirator and the beeping of all the machines. One of the nurses came in and checked on him, looking at the various monitors and recording their numbers in her chart. She then gently moved a lock of hair off his face and turned to Teresa.

"We'll check on him every few minutes, so don't be worried. That's usual here in the ICU."

"How's he doing?" she asked the nurse. She already liked her after seeing how gentle she'd been with Jane.

"He's holding his own," she was told. "Did the doctor talk to you?"

Teresa nodded her head, at the same time she reached out and once again took his hand. "Yes, he did."

The nurse looked at her kindly. "He's still in critical condition, but the longer he hangs in there, the better. And it will help having you here. I can tell you love him and that's what's really important!"

With a smile, she was gone, leaving a shocked Teresa ready to open her mouth and deny that she loved him.

But slowly her mouth closed as she looked at the wounded man in the bed. Of _course_ she loved him. Hadn't she just told the doctor he was her best friend? She loved him like – well, not like a brother, because she felt very differently towards her own brothers – but like, well, like a best friend.

She nodded and leaned back, his hand still in hers. She loved Cho, and Wayne and Grace too – as friends.

 _But not like you love him,_ that little, irritating voice told her. She ignored it and continued to contemplate the man in the bed.

The nurses kept coming in and out of the room as she sat there. A couple of times she saw a frown on their faces, but then they would turn and tell her he was "holding his own." If Jane had been here – no, she meant if he was _not_ the one in the bed, he would have made some sarcastic comment about the phrase. What the hell did it mean?

A nurse entered – the one she really liked, whose name she had found out was Stella. Stella smiled and told her "a man by the name Marcus is waiting for you in the waiting room."

"Oh." She glanced at Jane, not wanting to leave him. To leave him meant that something could go wrong. She had to stay, to protect him, to keep him safe.

A hand touched her shoulder. "He'll be fine," she said softly. "I'll watch out for him, but you need to stretch and have something to eat. Then you can come back."

She nodded and let out a few shaky breaths, but finally stood. She was so stiff she almost stumbled – feeling suddenly old. She continued to hold his hand but then lifted it to her cheek and spoke. "I'll be right back Jane. You be good – and don't give Stella any trouble. She's nice and she's here to help you."

"He's a rascal is he? I bet he doesn't like hospitals or nurses."

Teresa laughed softly at that, although her voice cracked as a sob tried to escape as well. "Yes, definitely a rascal – and he hates hospitals, and especially doctors."

"Well, that's good!" Stella informed her. "That means he's scrappy and a fighter and he'll do just fine. Now you go, get something to drink and eat and rest for a while. I promise I'll watch him."

"Thank you," Teresa told her, suddenly feeling better that she wasn't the only one looking out for him. If – no _when_ he got better, she'd give him hell if he was obnoxious to the nurses. They were saving his life.

"Hey," Marcus stood up and hurried to her as she entered the waiting room. He immediately put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "How is he?"

"Holding his own," she choked, another inappropriate laugh escaping her. "They're taking good care of him but – oh, Marcus – he looks so terrible. He was hurt really badly."

"I know," he said softly, carefully. "But you said they're looking after him. Soon he'll be the irritating, obnoxious man we all know and love."

She pulled away from him at that, a scowl appearing on her face. "Why would you say that?" she asked sharply. "He's always treated you well. Hell, he treats you better than almost anyone." And a small part of her suddenly wondered why that was.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I was just trying to be funny, but this isn't the time or place, is it? And you're right, he's always treated me well. He's a nice guy."

She nodded, knowing that she should accept his apology, but still feeling irritated. She and her team were the only ones allowed to make comments like that about Jane. It was like family – you could say what you wanted about them, but no one else was allowed to.

"I brought you a bag with a change of clothes, your toothbrush, etc. Why don't you wash up and change and then we'll go grab something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," she frowned. "Thanks for the clothes – I'll just go change but then I should head back to sit with him."

"Teresa, you have to eat. You're going to get sick this way. He's in the Intensive Care unit, so they'll be watching him closely. Look, give them your cell number and they can call you if anything changes."

"I'm not hungry," she snapped, knowing that she was sounding like a six year old, but also knowing she didn't want to leave. Even now she was itching to get back to him.

"If you don't eat, you're going to collapse and then you won't be there for him when he wakes up and _really_ needs you. Come on Teresa. I'm not taking no for an answer!"

She knew he was right, knew she had to look after herself, but she was terrified to leave him. Finally though, the fight went out of her. She had to trust that Jane would be okay when she was gone. It's not like she could do anything to help him anyway.

"Okay, but let's hurry."

She quickly went into the bathroom and freshened up, glad to get out of the clothes she'd worn all day. She gave herself a mini sponge bath and then brushed her teeth and combed her hair.

She stopped then, and looked at herself closely in the mirror, shocked that she looked no different. True, she was tired, and she could see the tightness around her eyes and mouth, showing her stress. But other than that, she looked the same as she had yesterday, and the day before, and all the days when Jane was okay.

With a final sigh she put everything in her carry-on, ready to head out for dinner. But rather than moving she turned once more to look at herself in the mirror. It was then, for the first time in a long time, she began to see things clearly.

She appreciated that Marcus had come with her, and all that he was doing to look after her. But she admitted right then that she had much rather it was Cho, or Grace or even Rigsby with her. They would offer their support and help, but she wouldn't feel so guilty with them.

And she did feel guilty – horribly guilty. Marcus was doing everything he could to help her because he loved her and yet all she could think about was the man in the bed.

It suddenly hit her that she had made a terrible, horrible, awful mistake. She couldn't go to D.C. with Marcus. He was a nice man and she was probably an idiot, but she didn't love him.

She had been so lonely, living up in Washington. The only thing that had kept her going were the letters from Jane and the attempt to start a new life. When he'd returned, she had barely hesitated but had jumped at the chance go to Austin, to work for the FBI – and to partner, once more, with him.

She had told herself, at the time, that it was simply because she was bored in Washington. In Sacramento, with Jane and her team, life had never been boring. Of course there had been many times when she had wanted to kill Jane – but still, it had been good. And it hadn't just been the excitement or the exhilaration or the career success that had made it good. With Jane she had felt needed.

For as many thoughtless, stupid and sometimes even cruel things he had done, she had always known that he relied on her, that he needed her, that she was the most important person alive to him. She was his one anchor in a world that had betrayed and wounded him terribly.

And if she were being totally honest, she had needed him just as much.

She needed to be needed. She needed to feel like she was making a difference, not just to the unknown victims in her work, but to her family and to her team – and especially to Jane.

And then there was the fact that Jane had never allowed her to become totally obsessed with her work, something that was very easy for her. Instead, he had taught her to look beyond it, to experience life and to enjoy many of the small things around her. It was ironic, really, since there was no one more obsessed than Jane – obsessed with finding the man that had killed his family, and exacting vengeance. And yet during all of that, he had still been able to find some remaining joy in life – and to let her see it as well.

She hadn't really thought all of these things when she'd found out she was part of his demands for working for the FBI - but she'd been excited to move to Austin, to start a new career and to resume working with him.

For some strange reason, things hadn't worked out the way she had expected. She didn't know if it was because he was different – no longer focused on vengeance – or whether she was the one who had changed. But all she knew was that things were not the same as they had been before.

For one thing, she had no longer been willing to go along with his insane plots. While before – when he was a man looking to avenge a horrible wrong – she had been willing to put up with the them, now she wanted more from him than secrecy and lies.

But she wasn't quite sure what the more was – and didn't even know if he could provide it.

So, she had found herself pulling away from him, no longer the close friend and partner she had been. And he had seemed to be okay with that – much to her dismay. He continued to be brilliant, to irritate and offend people – but now he didn't seem to need her as he had before.

And then in had walked Marcus Pike. She had been lonely, and confused, and he had told her she was beautiful and that he wanted to get to know her. She had felt flattered, and wanted and, strangely, relieved. She _could_ lead a normal life, be with a regular man, a good guy – and all her doubts and confusion would go away.

But they hadn't and now here she was – and she realized that she had used that good man. She had used him to hide from herself and what she really needed.

He didn't deserve what she had done to him, but now she had no idea how to get out of it.

"Teresa?" Marcus' voice came through the door, interrupting her introspection. "Are you alright in there?"

"Yes, sorry," she answered breathlessly, at that moment hating who she was. But she didn't have time to dwell, to really figure things out. That would have to wait.

"I was just cleaning up. I'll be right out."

She took one final look at herself – not liking what she saw. But for now, there wasn't anything she could do. Everything had to be focused on Jane. Afterwards – after he was better – she would deal with Marcus.

He took her to a small, 24-hour café adjacent to the hospital. She was pretty sure it had been built for people like them who needed to be at the hospital and didn't want to go far to eat.

She picked at her food, although she did try and swallow a few bites. She downed three cups of coffee though, full of sugar and cream. Marcus raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, seeming to realize she wouldn't take kindly to being admonished.

"Okay, I'm done. Let's go," she said, reaching for her bag and standing up.

Marcus frowned and reached out his hand. "I think you need to rest for a bit. It's been a long day."

"I cleaned up, I ate and drank something, and now I want to go back," she said, sounding angry. "You can stay here if you want, but I'm going back."

"Okay, okay," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "I'm just trying to look after you, Teresa. I don't want you getting sick."

She stopped and forced herself to take a deep breath and then she turned to face him. "I know, and I really do appreciate it. I know I'm being a bitch, but – he doesn't have anyone but us and I need to be with him. I would never forgive myself if – if I wasn't there. Please understand. And I'll be fine. I'm used to going for long days with little sleep. It's in the job description."

He nodded then and gently grasped her arm. "Then let's get you back up there. But please, let me know if you need anything – and don't feel guilty about taking time to look after yourself. He's gonna need you for the long haul, not just now."

That won him a smile – not because of what he offered to do, but because he spoke so positively about Jane having a future. It was what she needed to hear.

"I'll camp out here in the waiting room," he told her when they arrived back on the 4th floor. "And remember to let me know if you need anything."

"Marcus, you don't need to stay here," she objected. "Go back to the hotel and get some sleep. There's no point in both of us staying up all night."

"Just go to him Teresa. I'll be fine."

Rather than wasting time arguing, she finally nodded and headed back towards Jane's room. Now, however, she felt guiltier than ever.

But that emotion quickly left when she walked into the room and once more saw a wounded and unconscious Jane. She walked over to the bed and once more sat down in the chair from hell. She barely noticed, however. Instead she reached out and again took his hand.

"I'm back Jane," she whispered. "I'm right here with you."


	9. Goodbye

_**Reviews make me update faster ... just sayin!**_

 _ **Thank you to those of you who continue to review - it truly makes me know you want me to continue!**_

 _ **Just a note about the medical bits in my stories. To (I'm sure) absolutely no one's surprise, I am absolutely ignorant about medical procedures. If I've screwed anything up in a huge way, PM me and I'll make changes.**_

 _ **And the story continues ...**_

Marcus slowly sat on the uncomfortable sofa in the waiting room, glad that he had the room to himself.

He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. The physical he could handle. Like Teresa said, it came with the job description. But the other – he wasn't quite so sure about.

He sighed heavily and leaned over and put his head in his hands. The week had started out so well. He was excited about his new job in D.C. – it was a huge career move for him and put him right in the center of things. But what he'd been even more excited about was the fact that Teresa had agreed to come with him.

From the first moment he saw her he had wanted her. He didn't quite know why. She was beautiful, it was true – but he'd known his share of beautiful women. She was smart, and sexy and tough – all things he'd met before. So why he had been drawn to her he found it hard to say.

Maybe it was because she was a bit older than most of the women he'd dated. She had experience and wisdom behind her beautiful face. Or maybe it was because he wanted to get beyond that tough exterior and be the one to find the soft core of her.

Whatever it was, he'd fallen hard and fast. And he'd been thrilled when she seemed to return the feelings.

But now he wasn't so sure.

No – he thought a moment later, he _was_ sure and he needed to make a decision. With another sigh he sat up straight and looked around the small waiting room. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The night started out badly for Jane, which meant she was even more frightened. At first everything was calm, but by midnight the nurses started coming in more frequently. She saw their frowns, their double-checking of the monitors and began to worry. Every time she asked, however, she got the same answer. He was holding his own.

At 2:00 am an alarm went off, and the next thing she knew she was standing in the hall, his room full of medical staff.

She leaned against the wall, barely breathing, her eyes burning, dry, the tears unable fall.

She thought briefly that she should go, be with Marcus. He would offer her comfort and hope. But instead she stayed by Jane's room – not wanting anything at this moment but to know he was going to be okay.

It felt like she stood there forever, but in reality it was only a few minutes before the door opened, and people in scrubs and lab coats came out, pushing machines and chatting to one another. Finally one of the nurses stuck her head out the door.

"You can come in again," she smiled.

"What happened?" Teresa asked as she hurried back into his room.

"His blood pressure dropped quite suddenly," she was told, as the nurse made some adjustments to one of the lines running into him. "But it's back up now, so hopefully it will be fine."

"His blood pressure? What would have caused that?"

The nurse – it said Ellen on her nametag – looked at her with compassion. "His heart was bruised," she said, repeating what the doctor had said. "It can sometimes cause the blood pressure to go down, but the fact that we managed to bring it back up so quickly is a good sign."

Teresa thanked her, and then sat down once again. Although Jane didn't really appear any different than a few moments ago, in her imagination he was looking weaker. "You're sure he's okay?"

"Well, he's still very sick," Ellen said gently, "but he's hanging on pretty well. The doctor will be in soon and she can give you more information." She headed to the door but then turned back. "That chair is awful. I'm going to go and find you something a bit more comfortable. And I'll bring you a pillow and blanket so you can snooze while you're here."

Teresa wanted to object, to let the nurse know she didn't need to be comfortable – but the still reasonable part of her brain knew she was being silly. Her being uncomfortable and cold weren't going to help Jane. "Thank you," she finally said as the nurse left.

"What do you think you were doing Jane?" she told him a second later. "You scared me. You're supposed to be getting better, not worse. Don't _do_ that, okay?"

She sat beside him for the next couple of hours, dozing for a few minutes at a time in the much more comfortable chair, and then watching him and speaking softly to him when she was awake. She talked about their time together at the CBI – remembering old cases and fun times. And there had been some of those, even during the hunt for Red John.

"Can you believe that we've known one another for twelve years," she said to him at one point. "Longer than a lot of people stay married."

She suddenly grimaced at that – remembering that Jane had been married for ten years when his wife was killed. She changed the subject then – talking about Wayne and Grace and how happy they were together and wondering if Cho would ever meet anyone and settle down.

It was as she was reflecting to him about Abbott – how she'd initially hated him, but now found him to be one of the best bosses she'd ever had – that another alarm went off. She stood up in fear – but was asked to leave before she had a chance to find out what was wrong.

This time they were in his room for longer – and she was afraid that he was going to die. They were going to come out of his room and look sad, and tell her that it was all over, that he was gone.

"No," she sniffed quietly. "Don't you dare die Jane!"

A few – long – minutes later and again his door opened, and people filed out. One of the staff looked over at her and smiled and gave her a thumbs up sign. She let out a long, quavering sigh and practically collapsed back against the wall.

"You can go in now," Nurse Ellen told her. "The doctor is with him and she'll explain everything."

"We were having a hard time regulating his blood pressure," Dr. Sariana told her a few minutes later. "We did an echocardiogram and the results from it and from the ECG both seem to indicate that his heart is doing okay, so we've simply changed his medication, and it seems to be working. We'll monitor him closely, but he's looking much better."

"Oh thank God," she murmured. "I thought -"

"I know," the Doctor smiled at her sympathetically. "It's hard, watching someone you care for be so sick. But we're taking good care of him."

"I know. Thank you."

"Uh – there is one thing though," the Doctor said carefully. "Did Dr. Walden mention his kidney?"

"Yes. He said you were monitoring it carefully."

"Yes, we are. Unfortunately we're not seeing any improvement so I've asked Dr. Chen, the Nephrologist, to come in tomorrow and check him out."

"Nephrologist?"

"Yes, a kidney doctor," Sariana smiled, although she soon grew serious. "He may have to schedule surgery to remove the kidney if there's no improvement."

Teresa nodded, but felt her heart sink. She knew it wasn't the end of the world, that he would do fine on one kidney. Hell, many people donated their kidney and lived perfectly healthy lives. But for some reason, the thought of Jane going through this made her want to cry. The poor man had lost enough in life – why did he now have to lose an organ!

"He'll be fine with one kidney," Dr. Sariana assured her, telling her what she already knew. "In fact, he won't even notice, once he heals."

"I know – it's just – he's been through so much."

"He's hanging in there and that's all that matters right now," the Doctor told her. "I know it's hard, but of all the things he could have lost, a kidney is one of the least problematic." She moved towards the door. "I'll be back to check on him periodically but the nurses are watching him closely, and they're the best. If you have any questions or you're worried about something, just have them page me."

"I will. Thank you Doctor."

"You're welcome – and one can never be sure, but looking at Mr. Jane – I think he's going to be fine. I can usually tell the tough ones who will make it, and he's one of them!"

Teresa thanked her again, and then slowly sat and watched Jane again. The Doctor's words had helped, although she still hated the thought of him losing a kidney.

Things were quiet the rest of the night, and she fell into a deep, but uncomfortable sleep at around 4:00 am. She slept through all the nurse's visits, and the return of Dr. Sariana.

When she finally awoke it was almost 7:00 am and there was a man in a lab coat leaning over Jane. She pushed herself up, groaning as her stiff joints protested.

"Hello?" she said, causing the man to turn around. When he saw that she was awake he stood up fully and turned towards her.

"I'm Dr. Chen," he told her. "I'm here to check on Mr. Jane."

"You're the Neph – uh?"

"Nephrologist. Yes," he nodded. "There was some concern about one of his kidneys."

"Yes, they told me." She looked over at Jane and she thought he looked a little better, although that may have been wishful thinking. "How is he? Do you think you'll have to operate?"

"I was just checking his stats when you woke up. Excuse me for a moment and then I'll be able to give you a better answer."

The next few moments were nerve-wracking and Dr. Chen was so serious that she began to really worry.

"Well?" she finally asked when the exam seemed to go on forever. At that he put down the chart and looked over at her.

"Some good news," he said, with a small smile. He suddenly looked much more human. "It's looks like his kidney is starting to function. There has been some output, which is good, although there's still more blood then we'd like to see. Still, he's definitely doing better, so I think we can leave things – at least for now. He'll do much better if he doesn't have to have another surgery."

She breathed out a sigh of relief, although she knew it was too soon to celebrate. She said goodbye to the Doctor and sat contemplating the terribly ill looking man in the bed.

A few minutes later the nurse came by – someone she didn't recognize – and told her that Marcus was asking for her.

With a grimace, and a horrible sense of guilt, she nodded and stood. "You'll call me if anything changes?" she said.

"Of course." The nurse nodded, but looked more irritated than helpful and turned around before she'd even finished speaking.

Oh great, she thought. This nurse had better not be around when Jane starts to get better. He'll chew her up and spit her out!

"Marcus," she called as she entered the waiting room. He was sitting, trying to watch a morning news show on the ancient TV.

"Teresa! How is Jane?" He sat up straighter, and reached over and clicked off the TV remote, but didn't jump up to greet her. She felt a little puzzled by that, but assumed he must be exhausted.

"He's doing a little better," she told him, sitting down beside him on the couch. "He had a bit of a rough night, but they changed his medicine and he seems to be doing okay. Oh damn – I should call everyone and let them know!"

"I called Abbott about an hour ago," he said. "I asked the nurse and she gave me a bit of an update. You might want to call him again though – he'll be glad to hear Jane's doing better and he'll let the others know."

"Yeah, I will." She leaned back and closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry that you had to stay here the whole night," she told him after a second. "I really don't deserve you."

"That's what friends are for, Teresa," he told her gently. "Uh – you must be hungry?"

"Yeah," she said, blinking open her eyes. There was something different about Marcus this morning, but she was too tired to figure it out. She was hungry though – for the first time since she'd heard about Jane.

They both stood, and were about to head to the elevator, when two people entered the room. She stood frozen for a second, and the let out a small " _yes!"_ and swept forward.

"Wayne! Grace! What are you two doing here?" She tried to hug both of them at the same time and they laughed and hugged her back. Wayne almost squeezed the life out of her – and she suddenly felt much better.

"We came as soon as we could," Grace said. "Cho called us. My Mom was already visiting so we were able to leave Maddy, and Ben is with his Mom. Teresa, how is he?"

Teresa finally stood back, and wiped off the trace of tears from her face. It was so _good_ to have them here. "He's still in critical condition," she told them, "but he's doing a bit better this morning." She grinned slightly. "Everyone seems to think he's a fighter and he'll get through this."

"And they're right," Rigsby said. "Jane is much too stubborn and ornery to die. Pretty soon he'll be his usual pain in the ass self to the staff and be trying to escape the hospital!"

She laughed at that and agreed – not seeing the strange look that came over Pike's face. "We might need to tell the doctors to leave the respirator in," she said "that way he won't be able to insult them!"

They all laughed and hugged one another again. It was Marcus clearing his throat that brought her back. She could feel her face grow red – damn, could she _be_ any ruder to the poor man.

"Marcus – I'm sorry! This is Wayne Rigsby and Grace Van Pelt. Remember, I've told you about them? They were part of my team here in California."

"Hi," he smiled and offered his hand to Wayne and then to Grace. "Nice to meet you both. And yes, Teresa has told me lots about you – all good though," he smiled nicely.

Grace laughed gently and then stood back and looked at him seriously. "So, you're the person who won her heart? We wondered when it was finally going to happen!"

" _Grace_ ," Teresa said in embarrassment.

"Yeah – it's nice to meet you Pike. She's a very special lady!" Wayne said. He was pleasant, but a little aloof, which surprised Teresa. Usually you could count on Wayne to be really nice to people. However, she was so glad to see them both that she stopped thinking about it and smiled again. She only wished Cho could have come to make the team complete.

"We were just going to get some breakfast. Come with us and we can talk."

"Uh – could I speak to you for a minute first, Teresa," Pike asked. She looked at him in surprise, but then nodded when she saw his serious expression.

"Of course. Grace, Wayne, why don't the two of you go down to the cafeteria? It's on the first floor, I think. We'll be down in a few minutes."

After the two of them had left, Teresa turned to Marcus. She took one look at his face, and suddenly knew. She closed her eyes. What had she been thinking?

She opened her eyes and looked directly at him. "I'm so sorry Marcus," she said gently. "I never meant to hurt you."

His mouth lifted in a crooked grin and he let out a short breath. "I know Teresa. I don't blame you."

"But you should," she said, quietly. "You've been nothing but wonderful. And I really did think it would work out between us," she told him. "I wanted to be happy with you, to go and start a new life in D.C. – but -", she stopped and shrugged, not sure what to say.

"But – yeah, I get it. Look, I thought it was going to work out too. We were great together."

"God – I'm so sorry."

"No," he told her, "you don't need to apologize. I know you tried. I know you wanted it to work. You never lied to me, Teresa. But in the end – you couldn't love me the way I love you."

"Oh God," she said again, the tears escaping from her eyes. "I wanted to. I really wanted to. You're such a good man and I never meant to hurt you! It's just -" she shook her head, the words once more running out.

"I understand Teresa, really I do. In fact, I think I understand better than you do right now."

She looked at him, puzzled, not sure what he meant.

He reached out then and gently pushed the hair out of her face. He looked at her tenderly, longingly for a few seconds. Finally, with a soft sigh, he spoke. "Look, now that Wayne and Grace are here I'm going to head back to Austin, and then on to D.C. You don't need me here, not now. I'll just be in the way."

"Marcus," she said, not knowing what else to say, feeling so awful, so cruel. "You've been so wonderful. Thank you! Thank you for coming with me and – and staying in this horrible room all night. I'm so sorry to do this to you after all you've done."

"It's _okay_ Teresa. Just – tell Jane I hope he gets better fast and – tell him he's a lucky man!" He reached into his pocket and handed her a room key card. "Your things are at the Marriott hotel, the address is on the card and I booked a room in your name. I'm going to head there now and get my things. There's a plane in a couple of hours." He took a step away from her and smiled. "Take care, Teresa."

"You too Marcus," she said, taking the card. She watched as he headed to the elevator, too stunned to say anything more.

He didn't look at her as he waited for the elevator and when he got on he stood frozen for a second, his back to her. Finally he turned around, reached over and pressed the button. The last sight she had was of him looking at her with sadness, his arm lifted in goodbye. Then the elevator door closed, and she wondered briefly if she would ever see Marcus Pike again.


	10. The Rigsby's

_**Another chapter before bedtime (mine!). Enjoy**_

"Hey, are you okay?" Grace stood up from the cafeteria table and walked to her quickly. "Is it Jane?" she asked, sounding scared. Wayne was looking frightened as well.

She shook her head. "No – I – I'm afraid I just broke up with Marcus."

" _What_?" Grace said, startled. She looked swiftly over at Wayne, and then frowned at him fiercely when it looked like he was going to grin. He covered his mouth with his hand and shrugged.

Grace turned back to Teresa and put her arms around her. "I'm so sorry! What happened?"

"We both realized it wasn't going to work," she said carefully, still feeling stunned over what had just occured. "I feel terrible," she said suddenly. She looked at Grace and her face crumpled.

Grace held her for the next few moments as Teresa cried into her shoulder. Wayne looked uncomfortable, checking to see if anyone was watching them. At the same time - when he was sure neither Grace nor Teresa were looking – he made a swift pumping motion with his fist.

Teresa finally calmed down and made her way to her seat, looking around in some embarrassment. She prayed no one had seen her breakdown.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Grace asked her gently. Wayne opened his mouth, but closed it abruptly upon getting kicked by his wife. A glare from her told him now was _not_ the time to make a comment.

Teresa sniffed and shook her head. "There really isn't much to say. He's a great guy, and I feel like an idiot, because he really loved me. But – I realized I wasn't in love with him. It wouldn't have been fair to him to let things go on. And he knew – and since both of you are here now, he decided to leave."

"You did the right thing," Grace told her. "But it's still hard." She glanced over at Wayne, remembering how hard it had been when they'd broken up, although it hadn't been for lack of love on either of their parts.

She was quiet for a moment but then took a deep breath and reached out and gently touched Teresa's hand. "You're sure? That you don't love him? You don't think that maybe you were just feeling stressed, with being here, with Jane being wounded?"

This time it was Wayne who kicked her, but she glared at him and he didn't say anything, although he clearly wanted to.

Teresa sat silently for a few minutes, looking down at her hands and contemplating the question seriously. "No," she said finally. "I've been having doubts for a while, but I ignored them, hoping that when I got to D.C. everything would be fine. But I finally realized that wasn't fair to Marcus. He needs someone who really loves him, not someone who is simply _trying_ to love him."

"You did the right thing Teresa," Wayne repeated, finally breaking in and ignoring his wife's glares. "He would have found out eventually and it would have been much messier if you were living together in D.C."

"Yeah, I thought about that." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Thank you guys, so much, for coming. I can't tell you what it means to me."

"Hey, of course we came! And Cho really wanted to be here too. He said if Jane – he said he'll come on the weekend if he can."

"That would be great!"

"But how is he Teresa? How's Jane?" Grace decided it was time to turn the subject back to what was really important right now. Not that Teresa's love life _wasn't_ – but this was Jane's very life they were discussing.

Teresa spent the next few moments giving them an update. "I should get back," she said finally, looking at her watch. "I've been gone over an hour."

"Have you slept at all?" Grace asked gently.

"I dozed in his room. I'll be fine."

Grace and Wayne looked at each other, and then back at Teresa. "You're going to make yourself sick, and you know he'll need you when he's conscious," Grace said. "Actually," she rolled her eyes, "the hospital _staff_ will need you when he's conscious."

Teresa chuckled at that, but prepared to argue with her friend. She had to stay.

"You need to go back to the hotel, shower and sleep for a little while," Wayne told her kindly but firmly. "I'll stay with Jane and Grace can go back with you. After a short rest you can come back. And if there's any change, I'll call right away."

When had Grace and Wayne become the mature ones, she wondered. Grace had always seemed so young, so innocent. But she knew that was no longer true, hadn't been for a long time. She had been through too much, and was now a wife and mother. And Wayne – she wanted to grin – he'd grown up to be a sensible and loving husband and father. He'd always been a great agent!

Eventually they convinced her, although insisted on stopping in and seeing Jane before she left.

It was the same not so nice nurse who was still on duty, although she did let Teresa know that Jane's condition hadn't changed and he was doing "as well as can be expected". She _really_ wished Jane were with her then, so he could deflate the insufferable nurse. Instead she thanked her pleasantly, and headed out with Grace.

She peeked in on him for a couple of minutes, imagining that he looked better. "Wayne is here, Jane," she bent down and told him softly. She then reached out and grasped his right hand and held it. "And he's going to stay with you. You be good and don't give him or the nurses or doctors any trouble, you hear me? I'll be back in a little while to check up on you."

"Don't worry, I'll watch out for him," Wayne told her again.

She couldn't help it – she walked over to the big guy and stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I know you will, Wayne. Thank you."

"How did Jane feel about you going to D.C.," Grace asked a few minutes later as they were driving in the rental car to their hotel.

"I – uh – didn't talk to him about it," she responded, the guilt once again surging up in her chest. "I didn't know how," she said quickly.

"So he didn't know?"

"Yes, he found out and he was really upset." She stayed quiet for a moment, but then decided to get it off of her chest. "That's why he left and drove to California. It was all my fault!"

"What was your fault?" Grace asked, puzzled.

"The accident, the fact that he's lying in hospital, practically dead. Oh my God, Grace – he still could die and it will be my fault!"

Grace didn't answer, but a moment later she pulled off the road into a mall parking lot. She pulled into a spot, stopped the car and turned to her friend.

"Don't be an idiot, Teresa," she told her. "You didn't cause the accident and it's not your fault he's been injured. A drunk driver caused it – he's to blame, not you!"

Teresa snorted and regarded the younger woman. "You know, for years I and others told Jane the deaths of his wife and daughter weren't his fault – that it was Red John who was guilty, not him. This is the first time I understand how he felt. It may have been a drunk driver, but I was the reason he was on that road, at that time. If I had told him before – if I had treated him like the friend he is and _told_ him, none of this would have happened."

"How do you know?" asked Grace bluntly. "He might have still been upset, have still run away – because that's what he does. He ran away because he couldn't handle you having a life away from him and he got into an accident – an _accident_ Teresa! That means it was no one's fault – other than the other driver, I guess. It could have happened anywhere, anytime."

"I appreciate what you're trying to do Grace, but I still feel awful and I'm afraid I will until Jane recovers and does something to really irritate me or make me look ridiculous."

They both chuckled at that, and sat for a while longer in the parking lot. Eventually, Grace turned the car back on, and they headed the few short blocks to the hotel.

"Did he say anything to you?" Grace wanted to know.

"Jane?"

"Mmm hmm."

"You mean after he left? Or before?"

"Either. What did he think of Pike?"

Teresa frowned, thinking about Jane and how he had acted the last few weeks. He hadn't been his usual self, and she didn't know quite what to think.

"He was actually quite nice to Marcus," she mused. "I kept expecting him to make fun of him, or do something to make him look foolish, but he didn't. And he told me he was happy for me, that he wanted me to be happy. It was really not like him."

Grace didn't respond. She glanced quickly at the woman who had always been her idol, and then continued to drive, silently thinking about what Teresa had told her.

"What do you think it meant?" Teresa finally asked, a puzzled frown on her face. "That he was nice."

"I think – we're here," Grace pulled into the hotel lot. "I'm going to have to check in and you should go shower and snooze. What time do you want me to wake you up?"

They agreed on a time, and Teresa headed off to the room Marcus had booked for her. She was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. She collapsed on the bed, fully dressed, and was half asleep before she realized that Grace had never answered her question.

Grace stood looking in the hallway at Teresa's closed door. With a shake of her head, she smiled. "You are such an idiot, Teresa," she murmured. "Patrick Jane is _so_ in love with you!" With another shake of her head she moved to her room and opened the door.


	11. A Small Step Forward

_**So, I know some of you are getting impatient for me to move things along more quickly. Considering the seriousness of Jane's injuries, I did want to be a bit more realistic about timelines, etc. But not to worry – Jane is waking up soon and then the plot will continue.**_

 _ **Again – apologies for the bad medical knowledge.**_

Teresa woke up abruptly, her heart beating fast. She quickly rolled over, looking at the window. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was still light out so she couldn't have been asleep for that long. She next took a look at her watch, to see that it was 2:30. She'd slept for a little over 3 hours.

Just then there was a soft knock on the door and she pushed herself out of bed and undid the lock and opened it.

"Hi boss," Grace smiled at her. "Did you have a good sleep?"

"Yeah I did, thanks," she murmured, returning to the bed and sitting down tiredly. "And I'm not your boss, Grace. I haven't been for a long time."

Grace grinned at her. "You'll always be boss to me. It's a term of affection."

Lisbon chuckled and then yawned, still tired, but feeling a bit better. "Did you hear from Rigsby?" she asked, suddenly thinking about Jane.

"Yeah, he called a little while ago. Jane's doing a bit better," he said. "The doctor was in and said that his vital signs are improving. He's still not conscious, but they said that he could wake up soon."

Teresa nodded. "Thank God. I really thought -" she paused, unable to continue.

"Yeah I know, us too. Uh - I called Cho and told him. He said he'd let everyone know."

"Good. I'm going to take a quick shower and change, if that's okay, and then we can go."

"Sure. Just knock on my door when you're ready."

They stopped in the little café in the hotel before they left and grabbed a snack. Grace bought a number of items to take to Rigsby, who she was sure was dying of hunger."

"I forgot how much he could eat," Teresa looked in awe at the huge bag of food.

"Oh yeah," Grace grinned. "He can still polish off quite a feast. I have managed to improve his diet though, so at least that's better."

"Carrot sticks?"

Grace snorted. "Unfortunately no, he still hates them!"

The two women talked a bit on the way back to the hospital, but they were both tired – especially Teresa. She was also distracted, still thinking about Marcus and what was wrong with her that she hadn't been able to love him. She tried to shake it off, knowing that she should be thinking about Jane right now – but somehow the two men were all mixed up in her thoughts.

"Do you want to see him?" Teresa asked her former team member when they arrived in the waiting room.

"Will they let me?"

"They won't let us all stay, but I'm sure they won't mind if you say hello. You and Rigsby can then head out if you want. There's no reason for you to hang around the hospital."

"We'll stay, Teresa. But I would like to see him."

"Hey!" Rigsby stood up as the two women arrived. They'd gotten permission from the nurse on duty to step into the room for a minute.

"Hi babe," Grace gave him a quick kiss, but her eyes focused on Jane. "My God! He looks -"

"Awful – I know," Teresa nodded, also looking at her erstwhile consultant. "Although I think he's looking a bit better than last night."

"The doctor and the nurse – her name's Laleh – both said he's doing much better," Wayne told her. "They wouldn't give me too many details, because I'm not a relative, but the nurse said you can ask for more information, if you want. She said you're his next of kin?"

At that, both Grace and Rigsby looked at her with speculation on their faces. She simply shrugged. "Yeah – he doesn't really have any close family, so he needed to have someone."

"And you're the most important person in his life, Teresa," Grace said gently.

She felt uncomfortable with that and so avoided looking at either of her friends and instead made her way to Jane's side. Rigsby stepped out of the way, but continued to watch her closely. At one point he looked at Grace, his eyebrow raised. She smiled at him knowingly, which made the other eyebrow go up.

"I guess we'd better leave you," Wayne said a few seconds later. "The nurses don't really want more than one person here at a time."

"Thank you for watching him Wayne. I felt better knowing you were here."

"Hey," he said, looking embarrassed. "He's my friend too. We all look out for one another."

"Yeah, we do," Lisbon smiled at her friends as they left. She was so lucky to have them. Once they were both gone. she sat down in the chair, still warm from Rigsby, and reached for Jane's hand.

"So, I hear you're doing better. It's about time, Jane. You've had us worried – again! It's time for you to start getting well! Like everybody says, you're stubborn and pig-headed so I know you can do it!"

She sat with him for the next few hours, taking short breaks to go check on Grace and Wayne. They, in turn, insisted that she eat and drink at regular intervals. Grace sat with Jane for 45 minutes while she went down and grabbed some dinner.

The doctor – Dr. Walden, came in shortly after she returned. He looked at Jane's chart and then gave him a brief exam. Afterward he turned around and smiled. "He's looking much better," he said. "I'd say he was pretty well through the critical stage. Now it's just a matter of healing."

"And his kidney?"

"He's lucky. It's doing much better and Dr. Chen agreed that we don't need to operate. It looks like your man is a fast healer!"

"He's not my - uh – yeah, he is, a fast healer, I mean. Thank you so much for what you've done," she told him. "You and the other doctors and nurses have been wonderful."

"You're welcome," he smiled. "Now don't tire yourself out staying here all day and night! He's doing better and you need to be rested so that you can help him when he's recuperating. Unfortunately, with his injuries, that's going to be a slow process. You're going to need all your energy."

"You have no idea," she told the doctor with a small grimace.

"A bad patient, is he?"

"The worst," she rolled her eyes. "In fact, let me apologize now for anything and everything rude and offensive he says and does. He dislikes hospitals and doctors and isn't shy about letting everyone know."

"Mmm – probably had a bad experience," Dr. Walden nodded. "But don't worry – none of us are thin-skinned. As long as he's not violent, we can cope."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," she laughed. "He hates violence of any kind."

She thanked him again, and then looked back at Jane when she was alone once more. She could feel tears gather in her eyes. He was going to be okay.

With that she leaned forward and rested her head in her hands and allowed herself to cry, silently, in relief.

She finally sat up, feeling much better, and regarded the still very sick man in front of her. He really did look awful – the bruises even more dramatic than they had been when she'd first seen him. It was true – it was going to take a while for him to heal.

"Great," she said to the universe. "Just what we all need – Jane with a lengthy recuperation!"

Without warning, the very man she was complaining about shifted his head on the pillow. That stopped her cold, and she leaned forward. "Jane?"

He moved his head again – not yet awake, but becoming more restless by the second. She wondered if she should call the nurse, but then remembered that they could see his monitors. If there was a problem they'd be in quickly.

"Jane," she repeated softly. This time his head moved so that he was facing her, even though his eyes were still closed.

A moment later she could see frown lines appear between his brows, and the heart monitor showed his heart rate increasing. She reached out and took his hand. "Jane?" she said again.

She immediately felt his hand move, ever so slightly, in hers. She squeezed gently and it moved again. "Jane, it's me, Teresa. I'm here with you so you can wake up now. You're going to be okay."

The restlessness continued for the next couple of minutes. Just as she began to worry, a nurse walked in the room.

"It looks like he might be waking up," she said calmly, walking over and checking on the monitors. She then leaned down and spoke to him. "Mr. Jane? Patrick? Are you awake?"

His hand moved again, and the next thing Teresa knew, his eyes were open, a tiny crack of blue appearing, looking directly at her.

"He's still pretty groggy," the nurse explained. "We just want to watch for -"

Before she had a chance to continue, Jane's eyes popped open fully, looking panicked. His head began to toss from side to side, and Teresa could feel him trying to pull his hand away.

"Keep holding his hand," the nurse said quietly. "He's fighting the respirator. Mr. Jane. _Patrick!"_ she said more loudly, "it's okay – you have a tube in your throat. Just let the machine breathe for you!"

But Jane clearly didn't hear, or understand and he began to become more agitated as each moment passed.

"I'm going to get him some Ativan," the nurse said quickly. "See if you can talk to him and calm him down in the meantime."

Teresa nodded as the woman quickly hurried out of the room. "Jane, listen to me. You're okay! You have a breathing tube in. You're okay," she kept repeating. He didn't seem to hear her, or even know that she was there. His head continued to toss and he tried to pull his hand out of hers, she was sure so that he could try and yank out the respirator. Finally, in desperation, she let go of his hand and put her hands on his face – gently so as not to hurt him. Then she turned his head towards her, leaned down and looked him right in the eyes.

"Jane, _calm down_! You are in the hospital, and you are okay. Just let the machine breathe for you. It's helping you and you need to let it do its work. Calm down!"

It took her repeating that a few times, but finally he began to relax. Within a few more seconds he was lying quietly, his eyes looking directly into hers.

She smiled at him. "That's right, you're doing fine. Everything is okay. You're in the hospital – you were hurt in an accident – but you're going to be fine. Just rest. I'm here with you."

She could feel his arm moving under her, and she glanced down, wondering what he was doing. After a second she realized that he was looking for her hand, so she, once again, took his in hers. He squeezed it gently, all the while continuing to look at her.

The nurse – what had Rigsby said her name was - entered the room, smiling when she saw that Jane was calm. She approached the bed, on the other side from Teresa, and looked down at her patient. "That's right Patrick," she told him. "Just let the machine breathe. It's helping you."

His head slowly turned to the nurse, although he was sluggish and looked a bit confused. He then looked back at Teresa, another frown appearing on his face. He made a sound – of course it was impossible to determine what he was saying, although Teresa figured it out pretty quickly.

"I think he wants the respirator out," she told the nurse.

"I'm afraid that's a decision the doctor will have to make. I paged him, to let him know that Patrick was awake, and he should be here in a few minutes." She touched Jane gently on the shoulder, getting his attention.

"We have to leave it in for now, Patrick. It's helping you breathe. I've paged the doctor and he'll come by and we'll see if he can take it out, although he may want to leave it in for a while under you're stronger. In the meantime, just relax. If you want, I can give you some Ativan to calm you down and help you sleep?"

He stared at her for a bit, his reactions slowed. Finally he shook his head slightly, indicating he didn't want the drugs.

"He probably feels fuzzy enough as it is," the nurse nodded. "He seems calm now so I won't give him the medication. I don't expect he'll stay awake for long though, and really, sleep is the best thing for him now."

Teresa nodded and then bent down until she was closer to him. "Just go to sleep Jane," she said softly. "I'll be here when you wake up."

He watched her closely for a few seconds, and then nodded once more. Soon after, his eyes drifted shut, and he was out once more."

"That was good," the nurse – her name was Laleh, Teresa remembered – told her. "He woke up and seemed relatively aware – although he still has lots of medication in him as well as the injuries so he's going to be groggy for a while. But still – it was definitely a good sign."

"When can they take out the respirator?"

"The doctor will come in and check his oxygen levels. If he thinks they've been steady enough, for long enough, he'll probably remove it. We like to get patients breathing on their own as quickly as possible."

After telling Wayne and Grace the news that Jane had woken up, both of them came in the room to see him before heading back to the hotel for the night. Teresa insisted on staying, assuring them that she would be comfortable in the chair.

"I told him I'd be here," she explained, when they tried to argue with her. "I don't want him waking up alone. As soon as he's awake and off the respirator, I'll take some time to sleep at the hotel."

She gave both of the Rigsby's a giant hug, thanking them for their help and support. She really didn't know how she would have coped on her own. Or with Marcus here, that annoying voice said.

She said goodnight, and settled in to watch Jane for one more night.


	12. Awake

The doctor decided to leave the intubation in until the morning, saying that nights were often harder on patients, and he wanted Jane to be more awake and aware when starting to breathe on his own.

Teresa grimaced slightly, knowing he was going to hate it if he woke up again with the tube still down his throat. Still, he was going to have to learn to deal with things the doctors made him do that were good for him, even if he didn't like them.

It was going to be fun, she snorted. Patience was not a word in Jane's vocabulary.

He had a much better night, that night. The nurse on duty (a new one) told her that the doctor had ordered a sedative for him until they could get him breathing on his own. Waking up while intubated was too stressful, something she had already witnessed. Teresa was relieved. She had hated seeing him in distress when he'd woken up before.

But she also wondered briefly if she could get some of those sedatives, to keep for Jane when he was recuperating! Heck, _she_ might need them for herself.

The Rigsby's showed up the next morning at 8:00 am and Grace dragged her, protesting, down to the cafeteria for breakfast while Wayne sat with their former consultant. When she returned, Dr. Sariana was in his room, attempting to wake him up.

"His oxygen levels are steady," she was told, "so I'm going to take out the tubes and let him breathe on his own. I need him awake first though, and he's a bit stubborn this morning." The doctor smiled. "He doesn't seem to want to wake up."

"That sounds like Jane," Rigsby laughed. "He likes to sleep."

The doctor looked at Wayne. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Well, Teresa usually kicked the couch he slept on, but I don't expect that's a good thing to do now. You could also try and tell him that breakfast is on. He also likes to eat!"

"That would be cruel," Teresa shook her head. . "I doubt he's up to eating solid foods right now."

"No, unfortunately not," the doctor agreed. "So, we'll just have to try and get him to wake up some other way."

"Let me try," Teresa suggested. "He knows my voice."

"And knows that you'll be mad at him if he ignores you," Rigsby said under his breath. " _That'll_ scare him awake!"

She gave him a mock glare, but then turned back and leaned over Jane. She took his hand and lifted it up and squeezed. "Come on Jane – time to wake up! You've been sleeping long enough. We have things to do. Come on, I need you!"

Although she didn't know it, it was those last words that reached through the haze of his subconscious and brought him back to awareness. Teresa needed him – it was so nice to be needed, he thought. He had to wake up for her.

But why were his eyelids so heavy, he wondered? Maybe Cho or Rigsby had played a practical joke on him and glued them shut.

No, they wouldn't do that – would they? If he irritated them badly enough, maybe, although he couldn't remember anything he'd done to them lately. In fact, he was having trouble remembering anything at all. That worried him, and he felt himself star to panic. What was wrong with him? Why didn't he know what was happening?

He tried to speak, but it came out as a muffled groan. It was then that he felt something in his throat, something not allowing him to breathe properly. What the hell? He tried to shake his head, to get rid of whatever it was, but that didn't help, it just made him feel sick as he felt something scrape his throat. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Open your eyes, Jane," Teresa told him – more gently than she normally did. Her voice made it through the fog and the panic and stopped him for a moment. He heard her again telling him to open his eyes. He knew he had to obey, although he was scared. There must be something really wrong if she was being that gentle with him.

He finally focused all his attention on his eyes, although he still found it difficult to breathe. With everything he had in him, he pried both of his eyes open. He stared straight ahead – but things were foggy and fuzzy. Suddenly a head appeared in his vision – a head with long dark hair.

Teresa – thank God! He tried to speak, to tell her he was glad to see her, and that something was wrong. She could fix it. She had always had his back, had always been there to save him. He just needed her to understand. He needed to tell her, but he couldn't talk.

"Jane, listen to me." Her hands reached up and held either side of his face. She leaned forward until she was almost nose-to-nose with him. It broke through some of his panic and he forced himself to concentrate solely on her eyes – her beautiful green eyes.

"You've been intubated Jane – that's the tube in your throat, helping you breathe. Dr. Sariana is going to remove it for you, but you need to listen to her and follow her instructions. Can you do that?"

He blinked slowly, suddenly feeling tired. He wanted to go to sleep. Teresa was here and he'd be safe. He let his eyelids slowly close.

"God dammit Jane, _open your eyes!"_

Startled awake, his eyes flew open and he was once again looking at Lisbon – this time she was looking at him with an expression he knew well; part exasperation, part compassion.

"There, that's it," she told him, again gently. "Just stay awake while Dr. Sariana speaks to you, okay. She's trying to help you."

A new face appeared in his line of vision and he frowned, not liking the fact that Lisbon was gone. And he was pretty sure she had said this one was a doctor. He didn't like doctors. They were all frauds.

"Mr. Jane, listen to me," the doctor said kindly. "I'm going to take the tub out of your throat. It'll feel a bit strange, but you'll feel much better afterward, okay?"

Some of what she was saying finally got through to him so he nodded. He didn't know what was going to happen next, but then he saw Teresa smiling at him. He could handle whatever was to come, as long as she was there.

"The nurse is going to suction out your mouth first," the doctor told him.

He frowned, wanting to object, when suddenly there was something in his mouth. He heard a strange sucking sound and wanted to jerk away, but before he had a chance it was done.

"Okay, I want you to look at me Patrick," the doctor told him. He turned his eyes towards her, although he glanced quickly at Lisbon, who gave him a nod and a wink.

He, in turn, nodded at the doctor, who gave him a gentle smile. As far as doctors went, she seemed pretty good.

"Alright, I'm just going to take the tape off of your face. It may hurt a bit as your whiskers have grown out."

He felt a sharp sting as first one side, and then the other was pulled from his face. The tube moved as a result and he wanted to gag. The damn thing felt awful.

"Okay, now I'm going to start to pull," Dr. Sariana told him. "While I'm doing that, I want you to cough. Can you do that Patrick?"

Was he a child, he wanted to say to her. Of _course_ he could cough.

She pulled the tube and he tried to cough, although it was harder than he'd thought. He could feel the horrible sensation of the tube being pulled up his windpipe. It was longer than he had thought it would be – and he went from coughing to gagging as it was pulled from his mouth.

The dreaded suction appeared again, as the nurse helped clear his mouth of all the phlegm and grossness that had come up with the tube. He coughed again – and realized that his throat was burning terribly. But at least he was breathing on his own. The nurse put a tube around his head and cannula's in his nostrils. He wrinkled his nose, not liking the feel of the air or the tubes.

"Good for you Jane!" Teresa's voice brought him back to the present, and his head moved so that he could see her. She was smiling at him with her "I'm proud of you Jane" look. It wasn't one he saw that often, and it warmed him to his toes. He slowly returned her smile.

"Good – his oxygen stats are holding," the doctor announced. "How are you feeling Mr. Jane?"

He opened his mouth, attempting to answer, but instead of speaking, he began to gag.

"His mouth is probably dry," Dr. Sariana commented. "We'll get you a little bit of ice. That should help."

A moment later the nurse placed a spoon between his lips and an ice cube slipped into his mouth. He closed his eyes in bliss. The cool, melting water soothed his throat and took away the horrible taste and dryness. He kept his eyes closed and opened his mouth again – feeling like a tiny bird ready to be fed. Another ice cube was popped into his mouth and he lay there quietly, enjoying the relief.

"Mr. Jane, can you tell me how you feel?" the voice asked again. He sighed, and tried once more to open his eyes. He was so sleepy.

"Okay," a soft, raspy voice that he didn't recognize as his own, came out of his mouth. He frowned and tried again. "Okay." That time was a bit better, but still remarkably weak. What was wrong with him?

"You were in a traffic accident. You were pretty banged up, but you're going to be okay. Your friends Teresa, Wayne and -"

"Grace," Teresa said.

"Grace – are all here with you."

"Cho wanted to be here, but had to stay in Texas," Teresa told him, leaning forward, a small smile still on her face. Jane was conscious!

He nodded, his eyes drifting slowly shut. He'd been in an accident? He didn't remember anything like that. In fact, the last thing he remembered was – damn, he couldn't remember that either."

"Everything is looking good," Dr. Sariana turned to Wayne and Teresa. "We're going to continue to monitor him carefully, but if he's still doing well later this afternoon, I think we can move him from ICU. It looks like Patrick really is a fighter! He's come out of this more quickly than I thought."

Teresa thanked the doctor and watched as she left. The nurse spent a few more minutes tidying everything up, and then she smiled and left too. Teresa remained, with Rigsby, and both were regarding the now sleeping man.

"That's a relief," Wayne murmured softly.

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "He was so weak though. I've never seen him like that."

"I know. Even when he's been hurt before, he always bounced back quickly." Wayne raised his head and regarded Teresa closely. "How are _you_ doing?"

She let out a long, slow breath and then yawned. "I'm tired, but relieved. Those were some of the longest days of my life. There were a few times when I really didn't think he was going to make it."

"It was good of you to be here for him."

That garnered him a smile. "And the same goes for you and Grace. I just wish Cho could have been here. He's probably miserable having to stay in Austin."

"Yes, he is. I've called him regularly and he hates not being here. He said that Abbott and Wylie both said the same thing. I wonder if Jane knows how much he means to all of us?"

"No, I don't think he does," she answered seriously. She regarded him carefully. "I think for a long time he didn't think he deserved anyone caring about him."

Wayne frowned. "That's sad."

"Yeah, it is."

"But he has us, and surely he knows that we consider him a good friend?"

"I hope so, although I don't think I've been that good a friend to him lately," she mused quietly, almost forgetting that Wayne was in the room with her.

He didn't say anything; sure that this was a result of the Pike episode. He'd have to ask Grace what she thought, because she was much more clued in to the relationship thing than he was. Still, he was glad Pike was out of the picture. He'd long thought that Jane and Lisbon belonged together.

"I should go let Grace know what's going on," he said. "Then you're going to go back to the hotel and get some sleep. Grace and I will stay with him."

"But -"

"Nope! If I have to, I'll carry you out of here, Teresa. You're going to get sick. He's out of danger now and you need to rest. We'll make sure and stay with him in case he wakes up."

She finally nodded, knowing that Wayne was right. She was on her last reserve of energy and would end up sick if she pushed it too much more.

"Rigsby is making me go, Jane," she took his hand and told him softly. "I'll be back, so don't get into any trouble when I'm gone. And – I'm glad you're going to be okay." With a slight feeling of awkwardness she leaned forward and kissed him on the brow.

"Thanks Wayne," she told the big man as they walked to the waiting room. "You're such a good friend."

After telling Grace all that had happened, Wayne drove Teresa back to the hotel. This time Grace insisted on staying with Jane.

"I really haven't had a chance," she told the other two. "Wayne, why don't you get some takeout on the way back and we can have something other than hospital food."

A moment later Grace was alone in Jane's room, looking down at the still battered and bruised man she'd known for so many years. He _did_ look better, now that the tube was gone and his face was missing all the tape. However his facial bruises were now even more obvious. In fact, they were pretty spectacular.

His eyes were both black now, and he looked vaguely like a raccoon. She smiled – a blond, curly headed raccoon!

It took her a second to realize that those two black eyes were now open and were staring straight at her. When she finally did, she let out a small cry.

" _Jane_! You're awake!" Which probably had to be the most inane thing she could have said. She rolled her eyes, but then turned her attention back to her friend.

"How are you feeling?" That received a small frown and his eyes shifted, as if looking for something – or _someone_ else.

"Oh, you have it bad Jane," she whispered. She wanted to grin – maybe this would _finally_ bring two of the most obstinate, blind people together.

"Teresa went back to the hotel with Wayne, to sleep." This time she frowned – that didn't sound good. "Uh – Teresa went to sleep. Wayne is getting us some food."

"Food?" Jane whispered, his voice practically unintelligible.

"Not for you, I'm afraid," she told him. "How are you feeling?"

He licked his lips slowly, as if having to figure out the answer. He took a short breath and coughed. "Ow," he whispered.

"Does your throat hurt?" she asked sympathetically. "The doctor said it would, for awhile, because of the intubation.

He nodded and tried to open his eyes wider since they kept wanting to close. "Where – am I?" he asked suddenly.

"You're in the hospital – in Los Angeles," she told him. "You were hit by a drunk driver. It looks as if you had been at your house in Malibu and were leaving there when you were hit."

He frowned. Why in hell had he been at his house? He hadn't been there since leaving the country. And he couldn't even remember being there. "Why?"

"Why were you hit, or why were you at your house."

"House?"

"I'm sorry Jane, I don't know," she told him with a regretful look. "All we know is that Cho phoned us to tell us what had happened. Teresa and – ur – Teresa came, and we didn't want her to be alone, so Wayne and I flew down from San Francisco to be with her."

"Thanks," he told her softly. "What's – wrong with me?"

"That's a loaded question Jane," she grinned. "Are you sure you want me to answer that?"

That received a grin in return, although he was obviously still finding it difficult to stay alert. "You're – not – supposed to be – mean to – a sick – man," he managed to get out, although he was breathless by the end of it.

"I'm sorry!" she told him, although she didn't look sorry. But then she grew serious. "You'll have to have the doctor explain everything, I'm afraid. I do know you're going to be fine, though."

"Didn't – lose – anything?"

"No, oh no! You have some breaks – broken arm, leg, ribs. You're pretty bruised and scraped up, which probably hurts a lot, but isn't too serious. You also had some internal injuries but they did surgery and fixed you all up – there's nothing permanent. You just have to recuperate from everything now."

He regarded her closely – and even though he was woozy and sleepy from the wounds as well as all the medication, she was positive that he was making sure she was telling the truth. After a moment he seemed satisfied, and again glanced around the room.

"How long?"

"Uh – you've been here three days," she told him. "They say you're a fast healer."

He clearly didn't think that was fast, and his eyes grew big again, but soon he was looking drowsy again. "Drink?" he asked suddenly.

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry! They said ice cubes – I hope that's okay?"

He nodded. That sounded wonderful. Grace gave him a few, one right after another. By the time she was done he was fading again. His eyes began to close and he was almost asleep, although once more he forced his eyes open.

"You're a – good – friend Grace. Thank you."

"You're welcome Patrick," she smiled – and like Lisbon had done, she leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss. He didn't realize because he was already sound asleep.


	13. Slowly, Slowly

When Teresa woke up she felt incredibly groggy and it took her a few seconds to remember where she was. When she finally did, she sat up – too quickly as it turned out, because she grew dizzy and had to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths to bring things back into focus.

She let out a big yawn and looked down at her watch, startled to see it was almost 6:00 o'clock. She panicked for a second, but then realized that either Grace or Wayne would have gotten in touch with her if something were wrong. Jane must be doing okay.

She grabbed her phone to check if there were any messages, and saw that she had a couple of texts. They were both from Grace, the first telling her that Jane was doing well, had woken up and spoken for a few seconds. The second informed her that they would come and pick her up at 6.

"Damn!" she scrambled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, where she tidied up. She didn't have time to take a shower, which she really would have liked, but at least she looked slightly more presentable. She hurried back to the bedroom, and was just slipping on a clean pair of jeans, when there was a knock on the door.

"Teresa, it's Grace. Are you still sleeping?"

"Uh no Grace. I'm just getting dressed. I'll be ready in 5 minutes."

"Okay great. I'm just going to go change. Knock when you're ready and we can head to the hospital. Jane is doing well. They're moving him to a regular ward. Wayne stayed with him."

"Thanks Grace! That's great. I'll see you in a minute." Teresa had to sit down after that, surprised at how emotional Grace's words made her. She'd known earlier in the day that he was going to be okay, but having him leave the ICU was a huge relief. It meant that it was real – he was going to be fine.

 _Except he's now got a long recuperation,_ she thought. She had no idea what that was going to mean, but for now she just had to concentrate on the fact that he was alive.

* * *

Jane slowly returned to awareness, although he felt rather floaty, and disconnected. It was a strange feeling, but not terribly unpleasant. His brain was working at quarter speed, which normally would have scared him, but right now he didn't really care.

He stayed in that half-aware state for a while until he began to notice noises and motion around him. It was a tug on his arm, however, that finally caused him to open his eyes. After slowly blinking for a few seconds, someone came into rather fuzzy view. It was a woman in white, and she appeared to be doing something to a tube that was heading from a bag hanging beside him. His eyes slowly followed the tube down, until it ended in his arm.

He stared at the needle that was taped to his arm, carrying the fluid from the bag into his body. He frowned, not particularly liking the fact that he was hooked up to something. He didn't know what they were putting into him although a part of his brain that was still working told him that whatever it was, was probably responsible for the floaty feeling.

He closed his eyes, and would have drifted back to sleep, except a thought popped into his brain, from that working part, that told him he was in the hospital. _That_ was why the woman in white was hanging around. He was not happy at the realization.

He hated being out of control, and being in the hospital, any hospital, was the ultimate in lack of control. As far as he was concerned, it was even worse than being in jail. Your body was at the whim of the doctors and nurses, many of them who pretended to know what they were doing, but were, in actual fact, no better than charlatans.

It was when the nurse lifted his sheet, without even asking permission, and fiddled around _down there_ – that he finally objected. Unfortunately his voice was too weak, his mouth too dry and his throat too sore for anything intelligible to come out.

It did, however, cause the nurse to stand up, from where she'd been squatting down. He tried to look over the side of the bed, to see what she was doing, but managed to move no more than a couple of centimeters.

"You're awake!" she said, moving up so that she was by his head. "How are you feeling, Mr. Jane?"

He tried again to speak, but ended up gagging instead. That left him feeling even more dizzy and weak, so he closed his eyes and waited.

"Here," the nurse pressed something against his lips. He opened his mouth to tell her to go away, when an ice cube slipped into his mouth. After a few seconds he was ready to forgive her for touching where no one was supposed to touch.

After a couple of more ice cubes, he had decided that her name must be Florence, and that he really, really liked her. He opened his eyes once more and looked into her face. Although he still had trouble focusing, he could tell that she was young and rather pretty.

"What?" he asked softly, unable to get anything else out right now. He was so very tired.

"I was just checking on all your IV's and your catheter," she told him gently. "You had an accident and are in the hospital, but you're doing much better. I know you still feel weak, and it's going to take you a while to regain your strength, but with lots of rest you'll be back on your feet in no time."

He had a _catheter_! Damn – he hated those things – although at least it explained what she had been doing.

He scowled, but didn't have the energy to complain. . He blinked again and then slowly peered around the room. He got a strange feeling and an unexpected hazy memory emerged. He'd woken up before and there had been someone with him. But now – there was no one, other than the nurse.

He tried hard to reach through the vail that seemed to surround his thought processes and slowly a vague memory of Grace speaking with him appeared. But surely that couldn't have been possible. She lived in San Francisco with Wayne and their kids. Could it have been Teresa?

The thought of Teresa brought a sudden, sharp feeling of anguish, which both confused and upset him. The thoughts of Teresa always brought him comfort and a sense of safety and – and a warmth he couldn't even describe. But now – now he felt afraid. He had a terrible feeling and it had something to do with her. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to remember.

He was back to feeling things he hadn't felt in a long time. It felt similar to the many, many times he'd woken up, only to be reminded of the terrible loss of his wife and daughter.

"No," he murmured. "Teresa!"

"Are you okay Mr. Jane? Is something bothering you?" the nurse's soft, gentle voice brought him back to the present, and with great effort he opened his eyes and looked at her. He tried to take a deep breath and calm himself down.

"M'okay," he told her, not wanting to say anything to her about his sudden panic.

"I know it's hard," she told him, carefully rearranging his covers. "You just sleep and things will start to feel better soon."

He still felt upset and worried, but there was nothing he could do about it so he nodded and allowed his eyes to close. He was so damned weak! If only he could get up and find out what was going on.

"Hey, is it okay if I come in now?"

His eyes flew open. Was that Wayne Rigsby's voice? He turned his head, and sure enough, the big guy was walking in, a smile plastered on his face. Maybe he hadn't been imagining Grace!

Almost immediately Jane felt a bit better. There was no way Wayne would look like that if something bad had happened.

But why was Wayne here? He was so confused.

"Mr. Jane," the nurse interrupted his thoughts. "Are you okay now?"

He glanced at her and nodded. "Yes – thanks," he whispered.

She smiled at him again, gave his shoulder a pat and then walked to the door. "We're going to move him in a few minutes," she told Wayne. "I just needed to check that all his lines were in correctly."

"Oh, okay. Thanks." Wayne smiled at her and then when she was gone he approached Jane. "Hi Jane. It's good to see you awake."

"Rigsby – what - why?" he asked, confused.

Wayne looked puzzled for a second but then his face cleared and he pulled a chair forward and sat down. "You want to know what's happened and why I'm here?" he asked. "Didn't Grace tell you?"

"Grace?" Jane frowned. "I – no – maybe – don't – remember." Damn! It was so hard to get anything out.

"Wow man, you really were out of it. Yeah, she was here. We came down when we heard what happened. We've been here a couple of days."

"A couple – wait, how – long – and what – happened?"

Wayne's brows went up. He'd never seen Jane so confused before or unable to remember. He frowned then – of course there'd been the time when he'd lost his memory after almost drowning. At least this time he recognized him.

"You've been here for a few days. You were in an accident, don't you remember?"

"An accident?" Suddenly Jane had a fuzzy recollection of talking to Grace. "Oh, yeah," he said. As Wayne spoke the memory of Grace having been here started to return and he remembered her telling him he had been in an accident. "My fault?" he frowned.

"Nope. It was a drunk driver - a bunch of kids, actually – coming home from a party. They smashed into the driver's side. You were saved by the fact that you were in your Airstream, not a car."

"Right – I – remember Grace – telling me." He closed his eyes for a second and then yawned. His eyes abruptly opened when he remembered something else. "I'm in – LA?" he asked.

"Mmm hmm," Wayne nodded. "You went to your house."

Jane shook his head slowly – not to disagree, but because, for the life of him, he couldn't remember why in hell he'd gone to the Malibu house.

"Grace and Teresa will be here soon," Wayne suddenly told him. "Teresa went back to the hotel to sleep. She stayed up with you for two full nights and days, while you were in critical condition and she was exhausted."

Well that was a shock! He thought back to his panic when he'd first woken up, thinking that there was something bad with Teresa. But the fact that she was here –

"Wait," he said to Wayne. "She's - here?"

"Yeah," he was told. "As soon as she heard you'd been hurt, she flew out. Cho wanted to come, but Abbott couldn't spare both of them, especially with you hurt. He says to say hi and so do Abbott and a guy by the name of Wylie."

"Thank - you," he suddenly looked at Wayne. "I appreciate – you coming."

"Hey, no problem man," Wayne grinned. "That's what friends are for. Did they tell you they're going to move you?"

At Jane's frown Wayne continued, seeming to realize it was difficult for Jane to say very much. The poor man still looked really out of it. It was rather scary to see Jane like this.

"Yeah – you're better enough so you don't have to be in the ICU anymore. They're going to move you to a regular room. That way we'll all be able to visit you. They only let one person at a time come in here."

Jane gave a small nod, but his eyes were so heavy, and Wayne's words were starting not to make sense. He felt real gratitude that he was here, and happy that Grace, and especially Lisbon would be here soon. Everything must be okay.

Wayne looked at the man in the bed, and gave a little smile. Jane was out like a light. He supposed that was a good thing. He needed as much rest as he could get. He just hoped that he'd begin to heal quickly. It was disconcerting seeing him like this.

It was almost a half an hour later when the nurse and two orderlies appeared. The nurse woke Jane up and began to unhook all of the leads and tubes surrounding him from their poles and waited for the orderlies to move him. She then reattached everything to the new bed.

"You're good to go," she told him, leaning over and speaking directly to him. "You come and see us when you're ready to leave the hospital, okay? You're one of our prize patients."

He tried to smile at her, but he knew it was a feeble attempt. Still, she seemed to know what he was doing and gave him a big smile. Yes, as far as nurses were concerned, she was a good one.

He took a trip down the hallway, keeping his eyes on the ceiling as they moved him. He didn't have the energy, or frankly the interest, in looking at what was around him. All he wanted, right now, was to see Teresa.

They soon had him in a new room, and a different nurse was hooking everything up. He glanced and saw that Wayne had followed and was standing in the corner of the room, watching everything carefully.

Once Jane was all hooked up once more – how he hated that – the nurse checked everything and wrote a few notes in his file. Fortunately they'd been able to ditch a few of the machines, so it didn't take her quite as long.

"Okay Mr. Jane," she told him briskly, "here's the call button if you need anything. There's water and a straw on your table. Do you want me to lift your bed a bit?" she asked.

Jane could already tell that he wasn't going to like this nurse nearly as much as the last one. Still he nodded slightly. Sitting up a bit would hopefully take away some of the fogginess in which he presently existed.

Of course no one told him it would also increase the pain. He groaned as the movement of the bed put pressure on his ribs. "Stop," he gasped when it got worse.

The nurse regarded him carefully. "Do you want it down?" she asked.

He took a few more breaths and then shook his head. The pain was leaving, and as long as he stayed perfectly still, he preferred being able to see more closely.

With a nod, and a pointed glance at Wayne, she turned and left.

"Whooo," Wayne exhaled as she left the room. "I wouldn't want to cross her." He turned back to Jane. "Are you sure you're okay? You looked rather shaky for a minute there."

"Ribs," he said shortly.

"Ouch! I've had a broken rib before. It's not pleasant." He looked around for another chair and pulled it up to the bed. "Grace and Teresa should be here any minute now. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?"

He shook his head and once again his eyes drifted shut. The move – even though he hadn't really done anything but lie there – had tired him out. He was as weak as a kitten right now, he realized. It was an awful feeling.

Wayne watched as once again Jane fell asleep. He didn't seem able to stay awake for more than a couple of minutes at a time. It made him realize just how sick the man was – and how lucky they were not to have lost him.

Five minutes later, his wife and Teresa walked into the room. He grinned to see his wife –he still had trouble believing how lucky he was to have met and married her. He was also happy to see Teresa, but not nearly as happy as he was sure Jane was going to be.


	14. Conversations

"How's he doing?" Teresa asked, looking down at a still very sick looking Jane. At least he was out of the ICU and there were fewer machines around him. But it was obvious that it was going to take time for him to mend.

"Not too bad," Wayne answered. "He was awake a couple of times and spoke to me. He recognized me, which was a good thing, but he was really out of it. At first he didn't remember talking to Grace and wanted to know what had happened. After a few minutes he started to remember – although not that you were here, Teresa. And he can't stay awake for long."

"No, I expect he'll be sleeping a lot for quite a while." She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, trying to get rid of some of her tension. She was extremely grateful that he was going to live – but they still had to get through his recuperation and then – well, and then she didn't know what the hell she was going to do.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Wayne suddenly stood up, at a look from his wife, and offered his chair to Theresa. "Why don't you sit down. Uh – I wouldn't mind getting some dinner," he said to his wife.

"You and Grace go and grab something," Teresa said as she slowly sunk into the chair. "I'll stay here with Jane and you can bring me a sandwich."

"Okay," Grace agreed and with a motion towards Wayne they headed out, knowing that Teresa was so focused on Jane she didn't even realize they were leaving.

"You're gonna be okay, Jane," she said softly, reaching out and taking his hand. It was only then that she realized his bed was tilted up. She could see him better this way, and wondered if he'd asked for that. "Probably," she snorted, knowing Jane hated feeling vulnerable and defenseless and would want some measure of control over his environment.

"So how is he doing?" a strident voice interrupted her thoughts, and a nurse walked in the room, all starch and business.

"Sleeping," she said softly, hoping that would give a hint to the nurse to be more quiet.

"Well, that's what he needs," she answered, as loud as ever. She walked over and checked his stats, and without warning, grabbed his wrist. Since it was his left, she ended up moving the injured arm – which drew a groan from Jane. A second later his eyes opened.

She wanted to snap at the nurse, but instead focused her attention on the newly- awakened man. She could see what Wayne meant. He looked terribly unfocused and confused. It was a look she had rarely seen from Jane, and it scared her.

The nurse didn't say anything to her patient, but rather dropped his wrist as if it were something unpleasant and took his chart to write on it. She fiddled briefly with his IV tube, straightened his covers and then left. On her way out she looked at Teresa. "Now don't tire him, he needs his sleep."

"He _was_ sleeping," she informed the nurse. "I wasn't the one who woke him up."

That stopped the nurse for a fraction of a second, but then the woman gave her a quick glare and was gone.

"Nicely done," Jane's soft, scratchy voice brought her head around and she instantly forgot the nurse.

"You're awake!" She stood and moved right up beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"

He blinked a few times and tried to lick his still dry lips. "Alive."

"Yes, you are that, thank God," she gave him a huge smile. "We were worried about you."

He nodded, and then glanced at the water cup on the table. "Uh – could you…?"

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry." She filled the cup from the jug of water, put the straw in it and then held it up to his face. He drank deeply, until he leaned back with a sigh.

"I've – graduated," he told her.

"Graduated?"

"From ice chips."

"I guess that's what you get for moving up to a real suite from the ICU!"

Jane nodded and then looked around the room. His eyes were behaving a bit better, and he could see more clearly, although his brain still felt stuffed with rags. He frowned then – hadn't it been Rigsby who was here? And before him – Grace?

"Wayne and Grace went for dinner," she told him, reading his mind. "I hope you don't mind having me instead."

He looked at her and rolled his eyes. "Don't be – ridiculous," he said softly. He didn't have the energy to tell her, but having her here meant everything. He knew he was going to be okay, with her by his side.

He suddenly yawned, and then immediately groaned as the movement put stress on his ribs.

"Are you in pain?" she asked sympathetically. "Should I call the nurse?"

"I'd really – rather avoid her – completely," he told her.

"Well, don't be stubborn and suffer just because you don't like the staff," she lectured him.

That couldn't help but bring a smile. That was his Teresa! Snapping at his idiocies – which made him feel cared for. "You know me," he told her, as his eyelids began their slow journey down. "I don't like – pain. I'll call if I need something."

"And be nice! These people saved your life."

"Nurse sweet and light?" he asked, sounding surprised.

" _Jane_!" she admonished, although she wanted to laugh at the name he'd given her. "And no – it's the Emergeny and ICU staff who saved you. This nurse is – well – not the nicest in the world."

"Exactly! So you can't – blame me for not being nice to her!"

"I suppose not, but remember she can make your life miserable. And I don't want to spend my time apologizing to all the nurses, so be good!" That caused him to smile again, although Teresa could see that he was fighting sleep. She had intentionally not brought up anything that might worry him, and it was good to see him regain some of his wit.

"You can go to sleep, Jane," she told him softly, giving his hand a squeeze. "It's okay – I'll be here."

He nodded and his eyes finally closed. So softly, she almost didn't hear, he spoke. "You – can call me – Patrick, you know."

She sat watching him for almost an hour, thinking about his last words, and about their relationship. She'd never been as close to anyone in her life as she had been to Patrick Jane – not even her brothers. And yet their relationship was a strange one. It definitely wasn't a sibling one, nor had it been romantic. They were friends, yes, and co-workers, but again, she didn't feel for him anything remotely similar to what she felt for her other friends or co-workers.

A part of her knew that there was an element of co-dependency in their relationship. What she didn't know was whether that was unhealthy – or whether, in some strange way, they supported and completed one another.

She grimaced. That was getting into forbidden territory. Jane had never shown any romantic feelings for her, had never seemed interested in sex or relationships at all. It hadn't been surprising really, not after what had happened, but she wondered if things had changed for him now that his hunt was over.

Was he ready to move on? Would he like to meet someone, get married, settle down? She had no idea, and really couldn't ask him, especially the way things sat between them.

And the big questions was, was there any hope for her? Could he look at her that way? She knew he hadn't liked her being with Pike – his leaving had shown her that – but he hadn't said anything, hadn't exactly appeared jealous. Maybe he just didn't want to share her attention with anyone but wasn't interested in changing the way things were between them.

"I wish I could read you, Jane," she whispered. That suddenly brought her back to what had started this train of thought, and that was his request to call him Patrick. _Why_ didn't she call him that ever? He'd asked her to, on more than one occasion and yet she couldn't seem to do so.

And if she were being honest, she knew why. It was too personal. It took their relationship to a different level. By calling him Jane she'd always been able to keep some barrier between them. It was if she had always known that she was in danger from him. If she had allowed herself to think of him in any way other than as her brilliant, tragic, irritating and hopeless consultant – she was pretty sure she might have self-destructed.

But were things different now? She didn't know and it frightened her.

"Teresa?" Jane's voice interrupted her thoughts and she sat forward quickly.

"Ja – uh – Patrick? How are you?" Okay, that felt weird! He didn't seem to react to it though – but then again, he was still half out of it and looked as if he were simply trying to figure out what was going on.

"Here." This time she remembered to give him something to drink. He obediently took the straw and downed most of the water.

"Thank you," he said as his head fell back on the pillow. "You're still here?"

"I told you I would stay. How are you feeling?"

"Uh – okay, I guess. How long was I asleep?"

"This time? Just over an hour. Do you need something? Shall I call the nurse? Are you in pain?"

"You called me Patrick." he said suddenly, his eyes growing big. "I'm not dying, am I?"

"Of course not!" she snapped. "You're going to be just fine. And Patrick is your name."

" _I_ know that – but I wasn't sure if you did." He relaxed back into the bed and slowly smiled. He did look a bit better than he had earlier. He must be getting stronger. That thought made her smile in return.

"Of course I know that," she told him gently. "It's just that I'm used to Jane."

"Mmm – it's nice to hear my first name, though. Not many people use it anymore."

She frowned as a wave of guilt and sadness washed over her. She still sometimes forgot how wounded this man was – and she wasn't talking about his physical wounds. "Well, I'll try and call you Patrick more often then. Although when we're working I'll still call you Jane."

He nodded and continued to smile, although he allowed his eyes to close. She could tell he wasn't sleeping but was just resting.

"Wayne and Grace not back yet?" he asked a few seconds later.

"No – they should be back soon."

"How long can you stay?" he asked suddenly, his eyes open and staring at her intently.

"I'll stay until you're asleep for the night, or until they kick me out, whichever comes first," she told him. "Now that you're getting better, I don't know if they'll let me camp out all night."

"Even if I ask them?" he wanted to know.

She looked at him in surprise – and a warm feeling washed over her. He wanted her to stay.

"You can guard me from the mean nurses," he told her.

"Is that the only reason?" she asked, half kiddingly, hoping it wasn't.

He was silent for a second and then he looked away, appearing rather uncomfortable. "Uh – no. I like your company," he said softly. "You take away the -"

"The what?"

His eyes closed once more, but this time she could tell it was from discomfort, not from tiredness. "- the loneliness," he answered.

Damn! The man really knew how to work on her! She could feel tears sting her eyes, but refused to allow herself to cry. And anyway – his words still only meant that he viewed her as a really good friend.

"Thank you," she said finally. She didn't know what else to answer, although she wanted to say that she felt the same.

"But – I was actually wondering how long you can stay in California," he asked hesitatingly. "I know you have a job to get back to."

"Oh. Well – um – I haven't really thought about it. You've been so sick that nothing else really mattered. I guess I'll have to ask Abbott. We'll also have to find out from the Doctor how long you need to stay here."

He nodded and let out another huge yawn, followed by a grimace as his ribs pulled. "I'm tired," he slurred, as his eyes drifted shut once more. He yawned again. "I wish you could stay forever," he mumbled. A second later he was sound asleep.

Teresa sat, staring at him, her expression frozen. Now what the hell did he mean by that?


	15. Flying Solo

"We're going to have to head home tomorrow," Wayne broke it to Teresa as they sat eating dinner in the hotel dining room. "Sarah is going away on a business trip and I promised we'd take Ben for the next couple of weeks."

"Of course, I understand. I'm just so thankful you were able to be here when things looked bad. And I know Jane really appreciated it too. Don't forget to give Ben and Maddy a kiss for me!"

"We will," Grace told her with a hug. "You'll have to come and visit. The kids would love to see you." She paused for a moment. "Teresa, will you be okay here on your own?"

"What do you mean? Of course I'll be okay. Jane is getting better every day. I know he'll miss having the company, but he doesn't need someone there all the time."

"No, but the nurses and doctors might," Wayne snorted.

The three of them laughed, but then Grace grew serious. "I mean – has he said anything about why he came to California?"

"No, but he's mostly been sleeping. It's really only a day since he got out of ICU and I don't think he's thinking too clearly yet."

Grace glanced at Wayne and then regarded her former boss seriously. "Call if you need anything – even just some moral support."

"I will Grace, thank you," Teresa answered, although she could feel her cheeks flush slightly. She wasn't used to discussing her personal life with anyone and didn't really want to start.

They finished dinner and then headed off to their rooms, all of them deciding to have an early night. It had been a pretty emotionally and physically tiring few days.

The three of them had spelled one another off, although as Teresa said, Jane had pretty well slept the whole day away, with only short periods of awareness. When awake he said very little, although he had asked Grace and Wayne about their children and he dutifully admired the photos on Wayne's phone.

As for anything serious – nothing had been said by anyone. Teresa was pretty sure Jane hadn't even thought about what preceded his accident, still too groggy and sore. She knew it was coming though, and was sorry that she was now on her own.

Little did she know it, but she was wrong about Jane not thinking about things. Although his mind was still really fuzzy, he knew there was something important that he was forgetting. It frustrated him, because his memory palace was usually – almost – infallible. Granted, it hadn't been that time he'd drowned - but that had been different. At least he hoped it was.

No, this time he remembered losing his family and his quest to find their killer. He even clearly remembered his time on the island and then his move to Austin. What he couldn't remember was why he was in California – or what it was the Rigsby's and Teresa weren't saying. Even though he was sick and far from his mental best, he knew when people were hiding things from him.

The only problem was, he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know. There was something lurking, deep in the corner of the Teresa Lisbon room in his mind palace, that he was positive he didn't want to know.

So, instead of facing whatever it was, instead of making himself remember, he allowed himself to drift in a haze of drugs and the warmth of having friends who cared.

Wayne and Grace came in the next morning to say goodbye and he was embarrassed at how emotionally he'd reacted. He was _so_ extremely grateful for what they had done, for dropping everything and coming to be with him while his life was in danger, but he wished he knew how to tell them. He had grown rusty on how to say "thank you" to people who did nice things for him.

In the end it had been easy. Grace had laughed at his embarrassed look, which turned into her crying and then she had gently hugged him.

"I'm so glad you're okay Patrick," she whispered in his ear. She then kissed him on his cheek, hugged him again and stepped back. That emotional scene barely ended when a moist eyed Rigsby patted him carefully on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm glad too, buddy," Wayne told him. "You take care of yourself."

"Oh and Cho says to say hi," Teresa added.

"Actually, he said to tell Jane not to be a pain in the ass," Wayne murmured.

That got Jane to laughing, which caused his ribs to explode in pain, which meant a few minutes of everyone scrambling to think of some way to help him.

Finally, with the hilarity over, it was time for the Rigsby's to leave. A quick goodbye, a shy but heartfelt "thanks" and they were gone.

He lay there quietly, knowing he was going to miss the two of them. He also realized that he was now alone with Lisbon – and a dozen nurses, doctors, therapists, and other professionals. He was happy she was remaining and he refused to ponder any more about that niggling worry. With a sigh, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

"He's doing much better Sir," Teresa said quietly into her phone. Jane was still sleeping and she'd stepped outside to get a bit of fresh air – or at least "outside" air. She didn't know if LA actually _had_ clean air. She also wanted to call Abbott and let him know how Jane was doing.

" _We're happy to hear that,"_ Abbott told her. _"Tell him we're all thinking of him. A bunch of people have collected money to send him a few things. I suggested some books and a few games – to keep him from getting too bored."_

Thank you!" Teresa said with a quick grin. "We're gonna need all the help we can get! Although so far he's been fine with the nurses."

" _Have the doctors said anything about how long he'll be in hospital?"_

"No, not yet – unless they've said something to Jane and he hasn't told me. Uh – I called HR to check on what leave I have available -"

"That's not why I called Teresa," Abbott replied directly. "As Jane's next-of-kin you're eligible for leave to look after him. Once you know how long he's going to need you we can discuss whether you need to extend it. For now I just want to make sure everything is okay. You'll call if you need anything?"

"Yes Sir, and thank you. I'll let you know what the doctor says."

She signed off, after sending her "hellos" to the staff in Austin. She was grateful they were doing something for Jane. She knew that would probably make him feel uncomfortable, but it was good for him to start recognizing that a lot of people liked him.

Probably not quite as many as detested him, but usually those were people he didn't care about anyway.

She chuckled softly as she put her phone away and headed back into the hospital.

When she arrived, it was to see a disgusted looking Jane staring down at a tray of food.

"Hey, you've graduated to food now," she told him as she walked into his room.

He lifted his head and she almost laughed at the pained expression he wore, especially since he still resembled a rather scruffy, curly-headed raccoon.

"They expect me to eat – this!" he scoffed, pushing the tray away from him.

She moved to his bedside and looked down at the tray – which contained a bowl of broth, a container of jello and a bowl of something that might have been applesauce, although she wasn't sure. There was also a cup of what she presumed was watered down tea.

"There's tea," she told him encouragingly. That got her a glare.

"I can't eat this dreck," he told her. "And to call that tea is verging on blasphemy," he informed her. "Can you ring the nurse and tell her I need some real food?"

"No," she told him bluntly. "You're barely out of the ICU, you had major surgery and you're recuperating from a life-threatening accident. I'm sure they'll give you real – or at least solid food, when you're ready for it."

"I'm ready for it now."

"You may be, but your body certainly isn't," she told him. "Now stop complaining and eat. You need to heal and you're not going to do that if you starve yourself."

"I'm not going to do it with this -" he flicked the tray with his good hand, "garbage. I doubt there's a speck of nutrition in any of this."

She sighed. It had begun. "Fine. I'll move your table and tray over here. You can explain to the nurse why you won't eat. I expect it will mean you'll have to stay in the hospital longer. They're not going to release you if you aren't eating." As she was speaking she grabbed the table in front of him and slowly pulled it away. She wasn't surprised when his arm snaked out and he caught it.

"Fine. I'll eat it – but under protest." He struggled to sit up a bit more, which obviously hurt him, so she stepped in to help.

"Here, let me help."

Once he was arranged a bit better he picked up a spoon, glared at it, and then took a sip of broth."

"It's cold," he complained.

"It wouldn't have been if you'd eaten it when you got it," she told him.

He snorted, but continued to eat the cooled broth. After a few bites he pushed it away and tried to grab the jello, but couldn't open it with one hand.

"And what would I have done if I'd been by myself," he pointed out, as he watched her open it.  
"They're sadists!"

"You would have rang for a nurse and nicely asked her to open it for you," Teresa said matter-of-factly, as she placed the jello in front of him.

"Not one natural thing in this," he said around a bite of brilliant green gelatin.

She watched as he took a few more bites, and then shakily set down his spoon. He leaned back and closed his eyes, and she suddenly felt guilty. It was easy to forget that he was still really sick and deserved a bit of latitude for being snarky.

"Are you ready for sleep? Want me to lower your bed?"

His eyes opened at that and he gazed at her sleepily. "I just woke up. I'd like to try and stay awake for a little while if I can."

"Okay," she pulled up a chair and sat down. "So, tell me how you are feeling – and don't lie because I'll be able to tell."

"You will not."

"Yes I will Jane. I've known you for a long time and you can no longer pull the wool over my eyes like you used to. Now _spill_!"

He sighed and looked down at his arm and then his leg – both in casts. His entire torso was wrapped in bandages – both for the broken ribs and the surgery. He knew his face must look like something out of a horror movie, although Grace had kindly informed him that he wouldn't have any permanent scars on his face.

They had reduced his pain medications earlier – taking him off the heavy-duty narcotics and replacing them with stuff that didn't work nearly as well. On top of that, he was hungry – although if he was honest he knew he couldn't have handled anything solid. Even the little bit he'd had had made him feel nauseated.

"I ache all over and I'm hungry and I hate hospitals."

"I'm sorry," she told him gently. "But hey, you're alive! You could have been killed."

"I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry Teresa. I don't mean to be such a pain."

"But you're _in_ pain so I'll forgive you. So what can I do to distract you and get your mind off everything?"

"Tell me something from your childhood," he told her. "I want to know what little Teresa Lisbon was like."

"You probably already know what I was like," she told him. But at his pleading look she relented and began to tell him stories of her childhood – mostly with her brothers.

Although he clearly listened for quite a while, eventually she could see him breathing slowly and deeply and realized he had fallen asleep. At that she stopped speaking and instead regarded the complicated man in the bed. For as many years as she had known him, she still struggled to understand him completely. At least she struggled where their relationship was concerned. She sighed, wishing she knew what to say to him and how to continue. As he got better, it was going to become more difficult.

The next morning she arrived a bit later than usual at the hospital as she'd had to run to the drugstore to pick up a few things. She had packed quickly and she was beginning to run out of some personal items.

When she finally arrived at Jane's room she realized that his doctor was there. The curtain around his bed was drawn and so as not to invade his privacy she went to step back out into the hallway. As she went to leave she couldn't help but overhear the doctor. She stopped and shamefully listened.

"You're doing much better Mr. Jane," the doctor was saying. "In fact, at this rate I think we can discharge you in a couple of days."

"A couple of days? That seems rather – quick," Jane said. She couldn't tell if he was happy or dismayed by the news.

"We like to get people out of the hospital as quickly as we can once they're on the road to recovery. We find that healing happens better at home – and it also lessens the chance of infection. We just need to get you eating solid foods. When you're able to do that, we can release you. Of course we need to know is that there will be someone who can look after you when you're home."

"Uh – actually, I do live alone – and I'm visiting from Texas," he told the doctor. "I don't really – know anyone here."

Teresa frowned – the thought that Jane didn't have anyone – spouse or family or friend in California – who could help him, was terribly sad. It made her realize, again, how alone he really was.

"Mmm – well, that complicates things, doesn't it? I guess we'll just have to figure something out. In the meantime don't worry. You're doing really quite well and we'll soon have you on your feet."

Hearing movement from behind the curtain, Teresa quickly stepped into the hallway. A moment later the curtain was pushed back and the doctor and nurse exited Jane's room.

"Dr. Walden, hello. I'm Patrick Jane's friend, Teresa Lisbon" she reminded him once he had noticed her.

"Oh, of course Ms. Lisbon. It's nice to see you – in much happier circumstances than a few days ago."

"Yes it is," she smiled. "And thank you for all you've done. You and the other doctors and nurses saved his life."

"That's my job," he told her with a twinkle. "Your friend is doing quite well. He's still in some pain, but we're managing that. If all goes as expected we should have him on solid foods tomorrow."

"Oh thank God!" Teresa murmured, which brought on a chuckle from the doctor.

"Yes, Mr. Jane made his feeling for clear liquids quite well known."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize!" he held up his hand. "I understand he doesn't like hospitals or doctors. He's not alone – and I don't take it personally, so don't worry."

"Thank you doctor – I appreciate that. Uh – I wanted to tell you that I'll be able to look after Jane once he's out of here. I – overheard you."

"I see. Well, that's excellent. I'm sure he'll do well under your care. I expect you know how to handle him!" With another twinkle in his eyes, he said a quick "goodbye" and left.

"Hey," she said as she walked in. "I just saw your doctor in the hallway."

"Mmm hmm," Jane answered, sounding distracted.

"And everything's okay?"

"What? Oh yes, everything's fine. I'm a fast healer."

"Yes, yes you are." She thought for a moment, watching him closely. He was worried about something, she could tell. "What is it Jane?" she asked, finally.

"What? Nothing. I'm just tired. All I seem able to do is sleep," he said, sounding frustrated.

"You're healing," she told him calmly. "You need to sleep to get better. And it's much easier on the nurses."

He scowled at that. "I have been perfectly nice to the nurses – even though they bring me pap for my meals and wake me up to give me sleeping pills! And you should taste what they call tea. It's an abomination."

"It's a hospital, not a four star restaurant," she reminded him. "And I overheard the doctor say you can get out of here in a couple of days if you keep healing so quickly."

"And where will I go," he asked softly, staring down at the sheet which he was carefully and unconsciously folding and unfolding. He finally lifted his head. "I don't even know if the Airstream survived the accident."

"I don't know either," she told him. "I'm sure I can find out. I expect it was taken to the police impound." When he didn't say anything she moved closer. "What about your house?" she finally asked.

That caused him to life his head. He blinked a few times and then frowned. "Teresa – do you know why I was here? In California I mean. Why did I visit my house. I – I can't remember."

She sighed, knowing that this was coming, but still unsure how to handle it. She didn't want to lie, but didn't know if she really wanted to broach the subject with him when he was still too weak. And hell – she was too weak as well – although it wasn't physical weakness that kept her from telling him the truth.

"I think you just felt like you wanted to get away for a while – at least that's what you told Abbott. He gave you some time off and you decided to come here."

He shook his head, still looking troubled. "I don't remember," he complained, suddenly sounding exhausted.

"I'm sure it will come back when you're better," she told him. "For now you need to sleep. And Patrick – I told the doctor I'd help you when you're discharged. As your official "next-of-kin" – Abbott says I can have leave to stay with you."

"Teresa – you can't do that!"

"Shhh – I _am_ doing that. So just close your eyes and go to sleep and don't worry about anything. And as a treat I'm going to go out and get you a real cup of tea for when you wake up!"

Jane lay quietly, looking at her out of hooded, sleepy eyes. Finally he smiled. "What would I do without you Teresa."


	16. Escape

_**It has been forever since I updated this story – and I don't know if anyone is still interested in it. If so, please drop me a quick review and I'll continue (and try and finish quickly). I don't want to keep writing unless people are still interested.**_

 _ **Thanks!**_

It was later that afternoon that he began to remember. It came back to him slowly, and he still couldn't recall anything from when he'd arrived in California, but he did remember why he'd left Texas.

Teresa was moving to DC with Pike, and she hadn't had the decency to tell him.

He felt a wave of pain upon remembering, and wished that he could return to the _not_ remembering. Teresa was leaving, to start a new life with another man.

Jane knew that it was his fault, that he'd lost any possible chance with her, but that still didn't take away his anger and hurt over the fact that she was leaving him. And the way she had done it was a slap in the face.

He groaned and closed his eyes, recognizing the pain of loss, which he had thought was finally gone.

After having dealt with Red John, and then spending two years away, he had believed he had moved on. He had felt hopeful when he'd returned to the US – hopeful that he could start life again. But Teresa had always been part of that plan, and now he knew that she hadn't felt the same about him.

So what the hell was he going to do now?

He suddenly frowned, wondering what she was doing here if she was planning to go and live with Pike. The man must not be terribly happy that she was here since Pike must know how he, Jane, felt about her.

Well, one thing he did know, and that was that there was no way he was going to let her look after him! Since she had planned to leave him and move in with Pike, then she should go now. He was no longer in danger so the last thing he wanted was her pity.

With a sharp hiss of pain, he threw back the covers. He'd have to get out of the hospital before she returned. He wasn't up to facing her right now since he knew there was no way he could hide how he felt, not with how weak and in pain he was.

He managed to sit up, his legs over the side of the bed. He gasped in pain, but he had no other choice. He had to leave before she came back.

Grateful that the catheter had already been removed, he pulled out the IV needle in his arm and pushed himself to his feet. A wave of dizziness almost had him falling over, but he managed to hang on to the bed until his equilibrium returned.

Getting out of the hospital wasn't easy. Fortunately his wallet, cell phone and his shoes had been recovered and were in his room. What he didn't have were any clothes. He assumed they had been destroyed in the accident.

In the end he managed to steal some from the patient in the room next door. The man was sleeping, or unconscious and hadn't woken up when Jane opened his locker and took a shirt and pants. He'd have to go commando as there was no way he was taking the poor guys boxers.

He stepped into the man's bathroom and donned the clothes as quickly as he could with one arm in a cast and a body with broken bones and surgical incisions. The clothes were a little baggy, but that was actually a plus with all his bandages.

Once dressed, he opened the door carefully but there was still no sign of anyone who would try and stop him, so he made his way into the hallway. He eyed the Exit sign a short way down the hall, and decided it was easier and safer to reach that than the elevator, which was beyond the nursing station.

He hobbled his way down the hall and made it into the stairwell, where he breathed a small sigh of relief. He felt like he could possibly make it without being caught. All he had to do now was not pass out while walking down the stairs.

The good news was that his room was only on the 3rd floor so he didn't have too far to go, although by the time he reached the main level he felt like he'd run a marathon – a particularly grueling one. The trip down had been exhausting and painful, but he managed to make it – his need to get away before Teresa returned giving him the strength he needed.

Once on the main level he again checked carefully to see if anyone was around that would stop him. The lobby was crowded with people, including hospital security and he worried that he'd be caught – or that he'd run into a returning Teresa. He wasn't sure what to do, but then noticed that there was a doorway half a flight down from where he was standing. It said "Emergency Exit" and he kept his fingers crossed that an alarm wouldn't go off when he opened the door.

It didn't and he found himself in a small lot filled with service trucks. He noticed a man getting into one of them and hailed him. The man stopped and turned towards him.

"Yeah?" he asked. "Hey, are you okay man?"

"I'm fine," he said, limping over. "They just discharged me, but my ride didn't show up. I was wondering if you could drop me off at the nearest bus stop?"

"You don't look too good," the driver commented. "Maybe you'd better call your friend and tell him or her to come and get you."

"I'm not from around here," he said truthfully. "I was just visiting and was in an accident. The doctors said I was well enough to be discharged so I'm heading back to the hotel where I was staying. My things are there and they've kept my room. I'd take a cab but I don't have my wallet and I only have enough cash for the bus."

He could tell the driver was suspicious so he tried to look as unthreatening as possible – which wasn't hard considering his weakened condition. "Please. I won't be any trouble." He grinned. "I couldn't be even if I wanted to," he said, holding up his cast.

Finally the guy sighed. "Okay get in," the driver said.

He managed to pull himself up into the passenger seat although it was extremely painful and he had to force himself not to cry out – or to pass out.

"Hey, are you okay? Maybe you should go back to the hospital."

"No, no – I'm fine. I just have some broken ribs and getting in and out of cars is tricky. I'll be fine once I lie down."

"Which hotel are you at?" the guy asked suddenly.

"Uh – the Hilton," he said, pulling a common hotel name out of a hat. He was sure there had to be a Hilton close by somewhere.

"The one in Woodland Hills?" the truck driver asked.

"Yes, that's the one," Jane agreed.

"That's not too far out of my say. I'd be happy to drop you off there."

"Why thank you – that would be great! Uh, I hope this doesn't delay you. Do you have to be back to the hospital at a certain time?"

"Nah, it's fine. I'm done for the day anyway. I just have to drop the truck off at the terminal and then I'm off for the next few days. My sister-in-law just had a baby and my wife and I are going down to San Diego to see her."

"Congratulations," Jane said, hopeful that this meant no one would find out this guy had given him a ride – at least not until he returned from his trip, by which time Jane would be long gone.

"Thanks," the man grinned. "It'll be nice having a few days off."

The driver didn't say anymore after that, for which Jane was grateful. He felt sick and dizzy and the last thing he needed was to pass out in the guy's truck.

"You sure you don't need help?" the driver asked as they arrived at the Hilton and he drove up to the front door of the hotel.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks so much for the ride. Here, let me give you a few bucks."

"Nah – you don't owe me anything. Like I said, it wasn't too far out of my way."

"Well, thank you. I really appreciate it. Oh, and have a great trip to San Diego."

"Will do. Take care of yourself and I hope you feel better soon."

So do I, thought Jane s he stiffly exited the truck. He stood for a minute until the truck had driven off and he felt steady enough to move. He wondered briefly if he should just go ahead and check into the hotel.

Deciding that it would be better to go somewhere else, just in case someone found out he'd been given a ride here, he walked over to one of the cabs that was waiting in the driveway.

"Where would you like to go?" the cabbie asked him as he settled into the back seat.

He gave the man the address and then leaned back and closed his eyes. He was feeling worse than ever and knew he needed to lie down.

Fifteen minutes later the cab driver pulled up to the Palm Tree Inn, a small nondescript motel. He paid the driver and made his way to the front desk.

Fifteen minutes later he collapsed on the bed and sighed. It had been stupid leaving the hospital. He was sick, weak and in real pain and right now he wished he'd continued to forget what had happened.

A moment later he was sound asleep.

"He's gone, Cho," Teresa said, into her phone. She was almost crying, from a combination of fear and anger. "Nobody saw him leave."

"And you're sure he's gone? Maybe he just went visiting other patients – or he could be in someone's room or a lounge or even down in the cafeteria."

"I've looked _everywhere_ , and so have the nurses. No one saw him. God Cho – he's not ready to be out of the hospital. I'm afraid something's happened to him."

"Do you mean someone kidnapped him?"

"Yes – no – I don't know. Why would he have left on his own? Everything was fine."

"Did he say anything about you going to DC?"

"No – we didn't talk about it. I didn't want to say anything to him until he was stronger. He seemed just fine."

"He was really upset about you going and not telling him," Cho reminded her. "Maybe he was angry and decided to leave."

"But – but I'm not going to DC! I broke up with Marcus."

"Did you tell that to Jane?"

"No – like I said, I didn't want to say anything until he was stronger. Damn him! Why couldn't he have _asked_ me?"

Cho's silence suddenly made her feel horribly guilty. She had done this to herself – hell, to Jane. No wonder he ran off.

"I'm really worried Cho. The doctor said he shouldn't be moving around. His heart was bruised and if he goes too hard he could have a heart attack."

"Damn it!" Cho muttered. "I'll ask Dennis if I can take a few days and fly out there. Did you let Wayne and Grace know? They might be able to track him."

"I'll call right now. And – thank you Cho. I didn't mean to embroil you in this."

"Hey, it's Jane. We should have expected something like this. He's never been predictable as long as we've known him. At lease life is never boring around him."

Teresa choked back a laugh and then thanked him and hung up. She immediately picked up the phone and called the Rigsby's. If anyone could trace Jane, it was the two of them.

Once that was done she decided to search the hospital one more time. She had this horrible fear that they'd find Jane unconscious in a closet or room somewhere. Why had he left? Nothing bad had happened and things seemed fine between them. He hadn't said anything to her about her leaving without telling him. In fact, she didn't think he even remembered that.

She suddenly stopped. Could he have remembered? He was getting better, so maybe it all had come back to him. That would certainly explain why he would have left without telling her. Not only was it just like him, he'd already done it once.

"Damn it Jane! Couldn't you have _said_ something to me? I would have explained that I'm no longer with Marcus. No – instead you just run away, _again!"_

She was furious at him – as well as being terrified that he was going to do something stupid and end up really sick again – or hell, even –

"No – _don't_ go there," she told herself. He was going to be just fine. If only they could figure out where he was.

"It's a scandal!" the woman said loudly. "What kind of hospital is this, for God's sake! How could someone just waltz into my father's room and steal his clothes," she practically shouted. "I'm going to sue someone for this!"

Teresa watched as the woman stomped down the hall, followed by a timid looking nurse. When she reached the room next to Jane's she opened the door and walked in, leaving the nurse standing in the hallway.

Teresa went up to the poor young woman and quietly asked, "what happened?"

The nurse jumped and turned to her. "Oh – sorry, you scared me. Uh – it looks like someone stole Mr. McKenzie's clothes, although I don't know why anyone would do that. They didn't take his watch or wallet – just a shirt and pants. It sounds rather fishy to me!"

"I'm sorry," Teresa murmured. "It does sound strange." She gave the young woman a smile and headed back towards Jane's room – or his former room.

At least now she was sure that Jane had, indeed, escaped. Only he would steal another man's clothes.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes, a headache forming. What was she going to do now?

Hopefully Grace and Wayne would locate him – but if they did, should she go and see him? It was obvious he didn't want her in his life so maybe it was time to give up on him. Maybe she should have gone to DC with Pike.

She slowly walked down the corridor and stopped at the nursing station. "If you hear anything about Patrick Jane, could you have someone give me a call?" she asked the nurse on duty.

"Of course," the young nurse replied. She had been a favorite of Jane's and Teresa was sure that if she heard anything she'd call.

With that she headed out of the hospital and grabbed a cab to her hotel.

After she got back to her room she lay on the bed, trying to decide what to do. She wondered if she should just head back to Austin and let Cho – if he could get the time off – look for Jane.

But he doesn't _know_ a small voice in the back of her head told her. You have to tell him Teresa!

Would that make any difference? Would he forgive her for almost going off with Pike or would he feel betrayed? Jane's was not a forgiving nature. _Could_ they repair their relationship? And was that what she wanted or did she want a _new_ relationship with him?

"Aaagh!" she screamed into her pillow. She didn't know what to do.

Just then the phone rang.

" _Teresa? It's Grace. We've found him."_


	17. Motel

_**Thank you to all of you who commented/reviewed. It's nice to know there are still folks out there who are fans and enjoy reading still. I will finish this story (and my other The Mentalist fics) since you're all so amazing.**_

He was staying at the Palm Tree Inn, a motel in West Hollywood. What the hell he was doing there, she wondered. All she knew, was that when she got there, she was going to _kill_ him!

Without allowing herself to think too much about it – or about him – she grabbed a cab from the hospital and headed to the motel.

Jane slept for a few hours, but woke up from a combination of pain and hunger.

He didn't know which was worse, although he did know that the pain was going to prohibit him from doing anything in the near future, including getting something to eat. His leg was killing him and he was pretty sure he shouldn't have been walking on the cast this soon. And that wasn't the least of his worries. His ribs were burning fiercely and he worried that he may have caused some more damage by walking around before he was ready. He knew he was an idiot, and if Teresa were here she would tell him so.

But that gave him an instant pang. It was because of Teresa that he _was_ here. It was because he loved her and had lost her that he had left the hospital. He couldn't bear to see her, knowing that she was only there out of pity and that she was going to return to Pike.

He closed his eyes and tried to do some biofeedback techniques in order to deal with the pain. It helped a bit, but he was still hungry and knew he was going to have to do something about that. He wasn't going to get better by starving himself.

He was sure the motel didn't have a restaurant and the most he could hope for were some vending machine. But the last thing he wanted was vending machine junk food.

So, he continued to lie there, miserable and feeling very, very sorry for himself. He wanted some heavy-duty painkillers and some food, in the order. But he didn't have a car or friends who he could call, so instead he tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep. There was no point lying there miserable and in pain if he could pass out and spend some wonderful unconscious time.

After a few unsuccessful minutes trying to sleep, he realized it was impossible due to the pain. So instead, his eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he lay there like that, the pain and his thoughts about Teresa keeping him from determining the passage of time.

Eventually, after lying there for a long time, a thought suddenly popped into his foggy brain. He wanted to curse himself for not thinking of this sooner. He could _order_ food.

It used to be that pretty much the only things you could order were Chinese food or pizza. That had changed, and now just about anything was available. So, he thought for a few moments, trying to figure out what he could have.

In the end he ordered from a local eastern European deli. He ordered a large serving of chicken soup and some bagels with butter and cream cheese. He got them to throw in a handful of tea bags as well as a small container of milk. Soup and tea were probably about all he could handle, but he figured he might be able to tolerate the bagels if he was still hungry. Or, he could save them for later.

Once he'd finished ordering, he collapsed back on the bed and allowed himself to doze. He didn't want to fall asleep and miss the delivery, but keeping his eyes open was difficult.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard someone pounding on the door. The delivery person was rather insistent, he thought as he pushed himself up and to his feet.

"Just a minute, I'm coming," he called. Getting to the door would take time, in his state, and he didn't want the person to leave.

Hobbling around had become exponentially more difficult since he'd escaped from the hospital. He hoped it was because he was no longer benefitting from adrenaline rather than having done something to hurt himself even more.

"Sorry," he said as he opened the door, expecting to see a delivery person. Instead, standing in his motel doorway, was Teresa Lisbon. One look at her told him she was flaming mad.

He swayed on his feet, suddenly feeling as if he was going to pass out. His physical state made it almost impossible to deal with his emotions, and he felt like he'd hit a brick wall.

"What the _hell_ did you think you were doing?" Lisbon asked, before she really had a chance to look at Jane. At that moment, however, she saw him sway. She also looked at his face, which was paper white.

"Oh my God, Jane," she cried, rushing forward and grabbing him just as he was about to fall over. She managed to steady him, but she ended up bearing most of his weight. "You need to be in the hospital," she told him.

"No – am okay," he whispered, his eyes closed. He was trying desperately to get himself under control, but it wasn't happening. He didn't know if he was going to faint or throw up. Neither of which sounded pleasant.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Teresa's voice sounded as if it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. For a moment he wondered if she was real, but the feel of her arms convinced him she was indeed in his motel room.

Soon she was forcing him to move, although he was pretty sure she was carrying most of his weight. Eventually they got to the bed – although it took a lot longer to make it back than it had been to make it from the bed to the door. Once there Teresa tried to lower him gently back to the mattress but unfortunately she wasn't strong enough to hold his weight and he ended up dropping down abruptly onto the mattress.

That jarred every bone in his body, especially those that had already been broken. He groaned and wanted to clutch – everything – but instead simply lay there whimpering in pain.

"Oh God Jane!" Teresa said for the second time. He rather wished she wouldn't say that. It made him feel like he was in trouble – which he absolutely denied.

"I'm calling an ambulance," she told him.

"No – no Teresa,' he gasped out. "I'm – fine."

"You are _not_ fine. In fact, you are about as far from fine as it is possible for a human being to be. You are _such_ an idiot!" she told him.

"Hah!" he murmured. "I was right."

She leaned over, barely able to hear him. "What were you right about?" she asked, clearly if not grammatically correct.

"You think I'm an idiot," he told her.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I do. Who else would escape from the hospital after _almost dying_! I mean, what were you thinking?"

He shrugged, which caused shards of pain to slice through his ribcage. "Damn!" he groaned. He needed painkillers.

"Take it easy, Jane," Teresa's voice broke through the pain, although it took him a moment to figure out it was her speaking to him. "I'm going to get a cloth, just hold on."

A few seconds later a cool cloth was placed across his forehead. He breathed a sigh of relief. It didn't take the pain away, but it was soothing and helped distract him. He could feel her sit on the bed beside him, which hurt his ribs, but also brought a small measure of comfort.

He didn't want to analyze why that was, or the fact that even though he'd fled from her, he was glad that she was here. He knew himself well enough to know that Teresa Lisbon was essential to his very being. That's why her decision to move to DC, with Pike, had felt like such a betrayal.

"What were you thinking?" she asked gently, as she continued to bathe his face. "Why did you run away?"

He didn't answer, not sure what to say. He couldn't admit the truth, but he wasn't well enough to try and come up with a feasible answer. Usually he was quick on his feet, but this time everything was muddled and confused.

"Teresa," he finally said, not sure himself what he wanted from her, but needing to say her name.

"What Jane?" she asked gently. "What is it?"

"Teresa," he said again, suddenly feeling so, so tired. "Stay with me?" he finally asked. Before he could hear her reply, he was sound asleep.

"What am I going to do with you Jane?" she said to the sleeping man. She looked at him with a mixture of tenderness and extreme frustration. At that she laughed. That pretty much described her feelings for Patrick Jane right there.

She pulled out her phone and called the hospital and asked to speak with Jane's doctor. After a short conversation she hung up the phone and took off her jacket and sat on the other side of the bed from Jane. She was just settling back, ready to call Cho and the Rigsby's when there was a knock on the door. Wondering who it could possibly be, she walked to the door and looked through the peephole. A young man stood there, holding a paper bag. He was obviously a delivery boy.

She opened the door. "Yes, can I help you?"

"Yeah, someone ordered a delivery," he said, handing her the bag.

"Oh, okay. Uh – do I owe you?"

"If you want, although the guy put it on a credit card and you can leave it on that, if you want."

"Yes – yes please. Just leave it on his card. Oh – just a second." She went inside and got her purse and pulled out a few dollars and gave it to the delivery man. "Here you go."

After he'd left she took the bag inside and opened it up. The smell of chicken soup wafted out, making her feel hungry. It had been a while since she'd eaten. Just then she noticed some bagels, and sure that Jane wouldn't mind, she took one out, found some cream cheese and fixed herself a bagel. That would hold her for a little while.

She looked down at Jane, who was sleeping, and wondered briefly if she should wake him up to eat lunch, or whether she should let him sleep. He looked so pale and ill and she was reminded again of how she had almost lost him.

"Well I didn't," she snapped, "and I'm damned sure not going to lose you now because you decided to run away like some five year old!" Feeling slightly better after eating and venting, both, she sat down on the side of the bed and continued to watch him.

A few minutes later there was another knock on the door and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Doctor Walden," she said, as she opened the door, "thank you for coming. Jane's asleep but he looks terrible and I'm worried about him. I almost called an ambulance, but he didn't want me to."

"Well, he definitely wasn't quite ready to leave the hospital, but hopefully he won't have hurt himself again. I'll just take a look and then we'll see if he needs to go back in."

"So Mr. Jane, you didn't like our hospitality?" Dr. Walden asked. Jane blinked awake and regarded the doctor with surprise. He was obviously still out of it because he looked around as if to determine where he was. When he spied Lisbon he frowned and opened his mouth, but before he had a chance to speak the doctor was asking him questions.

By the end of the exam he was ready to scream. It wasn't that the doctor was rough, it's just that he hated to be poked and prodded.

"Well, it looks like you're lucky," Doc Walden said. "You haven't broken any stitches and everything seems to be mending nicely. I expect you're in pain, however, since it's been a while since you've had any medication. Is that right?"

Jane nodded, for once hoping for some medicine to help with the agony that coursed through his body.

"That's what happens when you run away," the doctor said calmly. "I'll give you something for right now, and then I'll leave a prescription. That should help keep the pain down. Other than that, rest for the next few days and then I want to go to your doctor – oh, I forgot you're not from here. Well then, come back and make an appointment with me. I want to make sure you continue to improve."

"What kinds of things can he do?" Teresa asked.

"Well, he needs to get lots of rest and eat good food. He also should get up moving as much as possible, without overdoing it. He needs some crutches as that isn't a walking cast," he frowned at Jane. "Do _not_ want on that thing. Use crutches."

Jane nodded, not having the energy to be his usual snarky self with the doctor. He was waiting anxiously for the pain medication and wished the doctor would stop talking. A minute later he had his wish granted as Walden gave him an injection of something. He didn't care what it was, just that within a few minutes he was feeling like a different man.

Jane drifted off then, the relief from the pain helping him to sleep. He continued to hear the doctor and Lisbon talking, but couldn't get the energy up to listen. Shortly afterward he heard a door shut, and then there was silence.

Before he drifted off completely, he felt the bed beside him dip, and then Teresa's hand was on his brow. "If you try and run away again, I'm going to handcuff you to the bed," she said sweetly. "Do _not_ try my patience any more, Jane. You will stay here until you are better - do you hear me?"

He simply nodded, not having the energy, or frankly the desire, to disagree. As he moved one step closer to sleep a part of him felt very warm and happy to have Teresa once more with him. He'd worry about everything else tomorrow.

Jane slept.


	18. Hot Tea and Soup

When he woke up again the pain was back, although it wasn't quite as bad as before. He suspected the injection was starting to wear off, and hoped that Lisbon had filled the prescription the Doc had left.

He frowned at that, remembering that he was in a motel and that Lisbon was with him – and was mad that he'd run away _again._

Suddenly, waking up, even for more pain meds, didn't sound like such a great idea. He'd run away from the hospital in order to avoid her, now he was stuck in a single room with her, without even the hospital staff running interference.

He cursed himself for running and cursed Teresa for having the resources to find him. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to locate his hidey-hole.

He continued to lie there, pretending to sleep, out of pure cowardice. He didn't want to wake up to face Teresa's wrath – or even more, her questions. She was going to want to know why he had run and he did not want to tell her. As angry and as hurt as he was, he didn't want to cause her pain. She loved Pike, and he needed to let her go.

But damn, the pain was starting to return with a vengeance and he was still starving. That instantly made him remember the soup and bagels. What had happened to them?

"Jane, open your eyes, I know you're awake!" Teresa's voice disturbed him. He kept his eyes closed until she revealed she had the pain medication.

"Come on, I need you to take this pill. I went and picked it up from the pharmacy and it's past time for you to take it. Jane, wake up!"

With a very put-upon sigh he opened his eyes. "Where is it?" he asked.

Her eyebrow went up. "Not a word of thanks, I see."

"Thank you Lisbon. Now, where is the medicine?"

She shook her head, but handed him the pill and after he'd tossed it in his mouth she gave him the glass filled with water. "Are you in pain?" she asked gently.

"Mmm," was all he replied, not sure whether he _liked_ having her feel sorry for him, or whether it irritated him. She was leaving him to go off with another man, so why was she here?

"Why are you here?" he asked, putting thought to word.

At that she frowned, and looked hurt, which made him feel guilty, a feeling he hated more than any other.

"Sorry," he said, more softly. "The medicine hasn't kicked in yet and I'm feeling rotten," he told her, "and yes, I know it's my fault. But as much as I appreciate all you've done – and I really do appreciate it Teresa, I still don't know why you're here."

"Jane, I sat beside your bed for hours, days, wondering if you were going to survive. You almost _died_ and you wonder why I'm upset that you up and left the hospital, without a word to me or anyone. What were you _thinking_?" she asked.

He closed his eyes, the pain finally starting to diminish – at least the _physical_ pain. After a few seconds he opened them and looked at her. "I wasn't," he said softly, hoping that would be enough for her. "You know me and hospitals. I just – had to get out of there."

"And you couldn't have _told_ me? All it would have taken was a "hey Teresa, I hate hospitals and want to leave. Will you help me?"

"You wouldn't have," he told her bluntly. "You would have told me I was an idiot and that I had to stay."

She opened her mouth, to argue, but then snapped it shut when she realized he was right. She would have made him stay in the hospital, regardless of his feelings. She knew he hated hospitals – but damn it - he was still so sick.

"You weren't well enough," she told him carefully. "You could really have hurt yourself."

"I'm fine, Teresa," he told her, "although I am a bit hungry." A _bit_ he thought. He was ready to gnaw on her arm – or his own.

"Well, there was soup," she started to say.

"You _ate my soup?"_

"No, I did not eat your soup! What do you take me for, Jane? Although I did eat a bagel – but you had three so I can't see that you'll miss it."

"Lisbon, concentrate. The _soup_?"

"Oh – it's still here but it's not hot anymore. You fell asleep before you could eat it."

He sighed but was so hungry it almost didn't matter. "I can eat it cold," he told her. "I'm starving."

"It's your own fault," she told him, but then she sighed. "There's a microwave in the hotel lobby. Give me a few minutes and I'll warm it up for you."

"Could I have some tea, too?" he asked.

"I can make that here. You want it before I warm up the soup?"

As he sipped the tea, waiting for Lisbon to return with his soup, he continued to fret about his situation. He wanted to forget everything – forget that she was in love with someone else, forget that he didn't have anything to look forward to or even to live for, forget that he was going to have to see her and talk to her and – oh hell, he wished he was still unconscious!

A couple of minutes later the door opened in in walked Lisbon, the soup held carefully in her hands. She smiled at him and set it down on the small table by the door.

"This will make you feel better," she said. "I'm just going to get a towel so you don't spill it on yourself."

"I think I'm capable of eating soup without spilling it," he snarked at her.

She gave him a look, but continued on to the bathroom, where she grabbed a towel and returned. "The pain medication hasn't started working yet?" she asked, as she took his tea and set it down.

"It's working," he snapped at her. "The tea worked better."

"Yes, you do have a close relationship with tea," she told him as she set another pillow behind his back and then spread the towel on his lap. "Here you go – it smells delicious."

He was irritated and wanted to lash out at her, but before he had a chance to say anything more, a spoon appeared at his mouth. Lisbon was right – it did smell delicious. He opened his mouth and allowed her to feed him. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth and saltiness of the soup.

He took a few more bites, Lisbon feeding him, before he was able to protest. "I _can_ feed myself you know."

"I know," she grinned, "but I enjoy doing it. And anyway, we don't have a table so I'd have to hold the bowl anyway."

Since that was true, and since he was tired and disgruntled, he allowed her to continue. He was able to finish almost the whole bowl before holding up his good arm and stopping her.

"Enough," he said, but this time more gently. The food had improved his mood, although he still worried about her presence. "Thank you," he said, "that was wonderful."

"Did you want a bagel?"

"No," he shook his head. "I'm full – and tired. Uh, if you'd help with the pillows I think I'll try and sleep. You don't have to stay."

She put the soup down and then reached over to help him settle back down. She straightened the blankets over him and then regarded him seriously for a few seconds. "Sleep," she said. "You'll start to feel better soon."

"Mmm," he said, his eyes half closed. "You can leave, Lisbon," he repeated sleepily, "I'll be fine."

She gave him a gentle smile, but shook her head. "Nope – I'm afraid you're stuck with me. The doctor said you can't be alone yet. You just rest. I'm going to go and see about a cot and then I'll be back."

She was almost out the door when she turned back, to an almost sleeping Jane. "And _don't_ go anywhere or I'll find you and kick your ass here to Austin!"

Jane sighed and allowed his eyes to close. It was funny, he thought with his last moments of awareness, Teresa's parting words had made him happy. He fell asleep with a slight smile on his face.


	19. Confession for the Soul

Over the next couple of days Jane did little else but sleep. Lisbon _did_ make him get up and move around a few times a day, telling him that it was doctor's orders, but since that was painful he had an excuse to not say much and to immediately fall asleep afterward. So, other than that and the necessary eating and using the bathroom, he managed to avoid staying awake for long enough that his lack of talking wasn't noticeable.

The fact was, that for once in his life, Patrick didn't know what to say. He knew what he _wanted_ to say, and that was that he didn't want her to leave him, but that was impossible.

The time for that had long since gone. He'd had his chance when he returned from exile, and he'd blown it. Not that he had realized that at the time. He'd thought he'd needed to reestablish their relationship – to spend time with her before telling her how he felt. He'd also realized that he'd seriously upset Lisbon by running off on everyone. He'd never heard her be so blunt – or so angry – with him before. It had been a slap in the face – a needed slap, he'd acknowledged – but it had slowed down his plan to woo her.

And hadn't _that_ worked out well. He sighed and thought back to Pike's appearance. He should have realized. He should have seen it and done something before the man had a chance to pounce. But he hadn't and now he was regretting it.

Although what really hurt was how easily Teresa had jumped into Marcus' arms. It was as if she was waiting for someone to come along – anyone but him. He sighed, suddenly feeling very sorry for himself. If he believed in those kinds of things, he would have thought he was cursed.

Except he didn't believe. He knew that the only person he had to thank, or to blame, for everything that had happened to him was himself. Again, his arrogance, his surety that he knew what was right, had blown up in his face and once again, he was suffering for it.

Of course the difference, this time, was that he was the only one who was hurt. Thank goodness no one else had been affected this time. In fact, he could almost believe that Teresa had been happier the last couple of days then he'd ever seen her.

Probably thinking about moving to DC with Pike, he thought piteously. He sighed once more.

"Are you okay Jane?" Teresa's voice interrupted his thoughts and caused him to open his eyes. She was looking down at him in concern.

"I'm fine," he told her with a small smile. "Just getting bored, I guess."

"That's good," she said cheerfully. "It means you're getting better. Would you like something to eat?"

"No, thanks, although some tea would be good."

"Sure," she said happily. "I made a pot since I figured you'd wake up soon. I'll get it."

"You treat me too well, Teresa," he said. "Thank you."

"Well, don't get used to it," she told him with a grin. "This is just while you're sick. Once you're better _you_ can wait on _me_."

"Except you'll be in DC," he said quietly.

Either she didn't hear him, or she chose to ignore his comment. He sighed again, wondering when they had lost the ability to talk to one another. Had it been while he was on his island, or had that happened since he'd been back – or since Pike?

"Here you go – just the way you like it," she said, walking over and handing him the tea.

She sat on the chair by his bed – the place he'd grown used to seeing her over the last few days. She was looking much better than she had been, more rested and somehow happier. He wondered at that, but supposed she was getting a lot of rest while he was sleeping.

"Uh – don't you have to be back at work?" he asked, suddenly realizing that she'd been gone from Austin for a long time.

"No, I'm on leave," she told him. "Dennis gave me permission. In fact he _made_ me stay." She grinned. "He was worried you'd run off."

Jane didn't give an answering smile, instead he took a sip of tea, avoiding looking at her. A moment later he felt her move from the chair to sit beside him on the bed.

"He was just kidding," she told him softly. "He trusts you, you know."

"I don't know why," he shrugged. "I'm not the most trustworthy person."

"No – at least you didn't used to be, but I think you're different, now."

"You do?" he glanced up at that, two lines between his brows. " _Am_ I different?"

"Then before your – trip to the island," she smiled gently. "Oh yes. You're much less driven, for one thing."

He shrugged slightly. "True. What else?"

She canted her head and regarded him closely. "Well, you're calmer but less cheerful."

"Less cheerful?" he asked, sounding incredulous.

"Mmm hmm. You used to pretend to be cheerful – almost all the time."

He didn't know what to say to that, although it was true. He'd hidden his real feelings by putting on an air of unconcern, of "cheerfulness" as she called it.

"You didn't want people to see your pain, to pity you, so you acted as if you didn't care and as if life was all fun and games to you. Those of us who knew you well, knew it was an act, but for others it was a good way of hiding what you were feeling."

She had him completely pegged, which he'd known for quite a few years, even though hearing it from her was a bit uncomfortable. He hated wearing his heart on his sleeve and she knew that. Sadly, it was still true – and one of the reasons that he ultimately lost her – or at least lost his chance with her.

"But now I'm not cheerful," he asked then, feeling slightly off kilter by this conversation.

"No – but you are less troubled." Suddenly she frowned. "At least you _were_ , although lately - " She didn't pursue that, and neither did he, so after a few seconds she continued. "And I think you _are_ trustworthy, at least _I_ trust you."

"You do?" he asked, hopefully.

"Mmm hmm – because you know that if you pulled any of your old tricks I'd -"

"You'd?"

"Shoot you," she said calmly.

"You can trust me," he said abruptly. "I would never do anything to knowingly hurt you, Teresa," he told her earnestly. "I never want to hurt you."

"I believe you don't _want_ to," she said, matter of factly. That caused his eyebrow to go up and for him to stare at her.

"Teresa, have I hurt you recently?" he asked, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know.. He was having a hard enough time dealing with the hurt of losing her – he really didn't think he could take guilt on top of that.

"Mmm – are you hungry yet?" she asked quickly. "You need to keep up your strength."

"Teresa!"

"I'll run out and pick something up. Did you want to watch some TV?"

" _Teresa_!" he said, sharply. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question was that?" she asked, sounding rather distracted as she looked around the room for something – although he wasn't sure what.

"Have I hurt you recently? I mean, after I ran off in New York?"

This time it was Teresa who sighed. "Jane, let's not worry about any of that right now. You're still recuperating and we don't need to get into any heavy stuff. Just rest and I'm going to go and get us some food. Is there anything you want?"

He regarded her carefully but then gave a small shrug. "Surprise me," he said closing his eyes. He waited until she had left before he opened them again. Clearly he _had_ hurt her, but she didn't want to tell him.

Sometimes he hated himself.

After Teresa returned she helped him sit up and eat. He didn't have a very big appetite yet, but he was doing better and could tolerate a wider variety of foods. He was also able to get around a bit better and knew it wouldn't be long before he could leave the motel.

Except where would he go? He no longer had a home, since his Airstream had been totaled. It was one of the things that Teresa had discovered for him.

He needed to do something, and something soon. Continuing to spend every day with Teresa was going to kill him, especially as he spent more time awake.

"You didn't do anything to hurt me," Teresa suddenly blurted out. He slowly lowered the fork from his mouth and stared at her. She got up and started to put the food containers away, not saying any more.

Jane wasn't quite sure what to do with what she had told him "Uh – okay," he said, "I'm glad." Based on her expression, she was hoping for more, but he didn't really know what she wanted from him. He was totally confused and it was a feeling he really didn't like and didn't know what to do with.

"I'd hate for you to leave for DC and be mad at me," he finally said. Maybe she needed him to acknowledge that she was leaving him.

Teresa's mouth dropped open and she stared at him. He began to worry that something was seriously wrong, and was going to ask, when finally she spoke.

"But – I'm not going to DC," she told him, looking uncomfortable.

"You're not? But – I thought Pike transferred to the DC office?"

"He did," she nodded.

"But he's decided to stay in Austin?"

"No," she shook her head. He then saw her take a deep breath and sit in the chair beside him. He looked at her in concern, wondering what was coming next.

"He's still going to DC – I'm not. I broke up with him."

Jane had trouble responding. He knew he should be glad – thrilled – but instead he felt rather numb. Her words barely made sense to him. "You – you broke up? Why?" he asked.

That drew an irritated, "Jane you're being an idiot" look but he was still completely stunned by her admission and didn't know what else to say.

"Because he wasn't the right man for me," she finally told him.

"But – I thought you liked him?"

"I did – I do – but that doesn't mean I want to spend my life with him. You can like someone but not _love_ them," she explained.

"You didn't love him?" he asked, suddenly starting to come back to life.

"I thought I did," she said softly, looking down. "But then I realized I just liked the _idea_ of being in love. He _is_ a nice guy – a really great guy – but not the one for me."

"And – and he knows this? I mean, you told him?"

"Of course I did. What, do you think I'd hide something like that from him? I think he'd catch on when I didn't go to Washington."

"No, no – I just – _when_ did you tell him? The last I heard – from other people - you were about to leave with him."

At this Teresa let out a long breath and then looked directly at Jane. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she finally admitted. "It wasn't right of me and I know I hurt you. You didn't deserve that and I'm really, really sorry."

Jane nodded, not sure if he could actually get words past his lips. But when he saw that Teresa looked upset at his lack of response he cleared his throat. "Thank you," he finally said. "I – appreciate that. Can I ask – why _didn't_ you tell me?"

"It was – hard," she admitted. "You've been part of my life for a long time and suddenly I was leaving. I knew – or I suspected that you wouldn't be happy for me to leave and so I didn't tell you. I'm sorry," she repeated.

He got a lopsided grin and let out a dry chuckle. "I wasn't happy," he told her, "but I'd never stop you from going if it made you happy," he told her.

"You wouldn't," she frowned.

"Uh – no," he replied, puzzled by her frown. Just when the conversation started to make sense something else happened to confuse him. "I want you to be happy, Teresa," he told her gently.

"And you think my being with Pike would make me happy?"

"No – I mean – it's not for me to say. Are you _sure_ you and he -?"

"I'm sure," she told him. "I felt guilty breaking it off, but I knew it was the right thing to do. He knew as well."

"Really? He accepted it that easily?" he asked in surprise. "I wouldn't have," he said under his breath – but obviously loudly enough for Teresa to hear and to roll her eyes.

"Yes, he did," she repeated. "It still made me feel guilty. The last thing I wanted to do was to hurt him."

"But when did you break off with him?" Jane repeated, just realizing she hadn't answered his question from before. "You were still with him when I left Austin."

"Just – a little while ago," she told him, not wanting to confess the whole.

"Before you came here?" he pushed.

She let out a "huff" of breath but finally shook her head. "No. He came with me when we heard about your accident. I realized then that I was being unfair to him. I didn't want him to stay here when I knew I couldn't go with him."

"He came _here_?" Jane asked, finding it hard to believe. "And you broke up with him?"

She nodded. "Jane – it's done and I'm okay with it, so let's just leave it. How about I help you up out of bed so you can get some exercise."

Jane was lying there, not saying anything, although his eyes were focused on her. She felt herself squirm, afraid that he would see right through her. After a few moments she stood up. "Okay – let's get you out of bed."

Jane finally acquiesced and threw off his covers and put his legs over the side. He continued to glance at Teresa, pretty sure he had missed something important.

The fact was, he was thrilled Pike was out of the picture, although he still couldn't quite figure out why he was. He was a good man – smart, good-looking – and law enforcement. On paper (and okay – in real life too) he was a perfect match for Teresa. It was driving him crazy.

"Teresa," he finally asked, as he stopped his walk across the room. He turned to her and looked directly at her.

"What Jane?" she asked, sounding slightly distracted as she made sure he was okay.

"Why did you break up with Pike?" he asked softly "And why when you came out to California?"

Lisbon stopped and looked up at Jane, wondering at the sudden fear she saw in his face. She knew they had both avoided this discussion – and she also knew it was time to confess.

"Because I didn't love him," she repeated.

"And?" Jane asked.

"And because I'm in love with someone else," she admitted in a rush.

Jane felt everything on him go numb again, and was almost afraid to ask. But he knew he had to if he was to go on with his life.

"Who is the someone else?" he finally asked.

He could see the color flood her face, but Teresa had never been a coward, so he watched her lift her head and look directly at him – a blend of hope, fear and irritation in her face. He almost smiled – it was such a Lisbon expression.

"What do you think, Jane?" she asked, sounding insulted. "I'm in love with _you_ , you idiot!"


	20. Happiness Revisited

_**Thank you to all of you who are reviewing! I so appreciate the kind comments and it truly is keeping me going on this story!**_

There were very few times in his life that Jane remembered being so surprised that he didn't know how to react. His father had taught him to read every situation and person around him – and it usually resulted in him being one step ahead of everyone else.

In this instance he was totally stunned. What had Teresa just said? That she _loved_ him?

He was pretty sure he was giving a good imitation of a large mouthed bass. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes were wide and staring. It was only when he saw Teresa's expression begin to close, and the color seep up into her face, that he knew he had to pull himself together and respond.

He closed his mouth, and tried to gather his thoughts enough to answer. Before he'd come up with an intelligent and appropriate response, his mind flew back to her words. She'd told him she loved him and that he was an idiot all in one breath.

It was completely and absolutely Teresa – so much so that his next reaction was to break out into a grin. This effectively caused her to retreat – if not physically, at least emotionally.

"No," he got out, "don't." When she looked confused he reached for her, the grin still plastered all over his face. "Only you would insult me and tell me you loved me in the same sentence," he explained to her.

For a moment she appeared as if she might get angry, but then her face relaxed and soon a grin appeared of her own. "Well, you deserve it!"

"I do," he nodded, pulling her forward. Still unsure of what to say, his grin slowly faded, and he grew serious as he regarded her closely. Without saying anything more, he leaned forward, his eyes closed. She too closed her eyes in expectation of his kiss.

Jane wasn't thinking clearly. All he knew is that Teresa said she loved him, and she was standing in front of him looking totally adorable. He'd wanted to kiss her for years, and figured now was the time. It would let her know how he felt without his having to get his brain to start functioning again.

As he leaned forward his balance shifted and suddenly everything went to hell. He had thrown down his crutch and was balancing on his good leg – which now gave out as he moved. The next thing he knew, he had pitched forward and practically tackled Lisbon. They both fell to the floor in a flurry of arms and legs with him ending up on top of her.

Of course every broken bone, torn ligament, bruised muscle screamed in agony, causing Jane to curse. But almost immediately his worry turned to Lisbon, terrified that he had hurt her – although he wasn't a big man, she was tiny.

"Are you – okay," he gasped, before he had a chance to see if he had done anything to himself.

"Don't know," she murmured from underneath him. "You're squishing me!"

He attempted to move, again cursing as everything hurt. As soon as he'd moved he looked down at Lisbon, who had an adorable frown on her face, but didn't seem to be in any pain.

"You okay?" he gasped.

"I'm fine Jane," she said, pushing herself up on her arms and regarding him worriedly. "How about you? Did you hurt yourself again?"

He quickly did an inventory, and other than a couple more bruises he was pretty sure he was all right.

He finally sighed. "Just my pride, I think," he told her, feeling embarrassed and truly like the idiot she'd called him.

This time _she_ grinned, and then began to laugh. "We're a pair, Jane," she said. "I insult you and then you knock me over. Very romantic!"

He couldn't help but chuckle in reply. "I'd say it was fitting for us," he told her. "I mean – did you really expect "normal"?

"No, of course not," she said, struggling to stand. Once she was up she reached down to him. "Let's get you to bed," she told him.

He waggled his eyebrows, causing her to roll her eyes. "In your dreams, mister," she told him, with a twinkle. "I meant to _rest_!"

He sighed, but heaved himself up, groaning and complaining the whole way. Lisbon supported him as he moved to the bed and then helped him lie down.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine, Lisbon – just rather embarrassed."

She sat on the edge of the bed, next to him, and reached out and gently pushed the hair off his forehead. "Don't be," she told him. For a few seconds she continued to look at him, and he still found himself unable to answer.

"I still want that kiss, you know," she told him softly.

Once more surprised, he slowly smiled and reached out his hand to draw her down. He looked directly into her eyes, and his smile grew wider, but faded as her eyes drifted closed. The next moment he felt her soft and gentle lips touch his.

He'd often wondered what Lisbon would feel like and taste like – and now he knew. He stopped thinking, and simply allowed himself to feel and to enjoy.

It had been so long – so long since he'd felt this sense of wonder and peace – and love. As the kiss continued, tentatively, gently, his eyes filled with tears. It had been so, so long – and he didn't know quite how to react.

A moment later Teresa drew her lips from his and sat back. Her face was flushed and her lips looked slightly swollen and red. Her eyes tracked his face, as if to determine how he felt about the kiss.

"Jane?" she asked in concern, when she saw the tears.

He smiled a crooked smile. "It's just – I wasn't expecting this," he told her. "I thought I'd lost you."

After a pause she took a small breath. "You almost did."

"I know – and I'm so sorry."

Her head titled and she looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you sorry? What did you do?"

"It's what I didn't do," he told her. "I should have told you how I felt as soon as I came back from the island."

"Yes, you should," she nodded in agreement. "I was hoping you would."

"Were you? I didn't know."

"Jane, the all-knowing, didn't know! I'm surprised."

"It was too important to me," he told her earnestly. "I couldn't really read you. I did know you were angry at me when I ran off in New York, so I was trying to show you I _could_ be trustworthy. I planned to slowly woo you."

"Really?" her eyebrow went up. "Why didn't you?"

"Pike," he said shortly, looking down and avoiding her eyes. "Pike came along before I had a chance."

He heard a small sound and glanced up, to see Teresa looking terribly sad. He was pretty sure there were tears in _her_ eyes.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "If I'd known, I would never have started dating Marcus."

"No? That's good to know. I must admit I felt - " he shrugged, going silent.

"No, tell me. What did you feel?"

"Hurt I guess," he said. "I know I didn't have a right to feel that way, so I didn't say anything."

"Well, that wasn't smart. I kept hoping you'd say _something_ – anything to stop me, but you never did. I took that to mean you didn't care for me in that way, so -"

"So Pike," he said, once more naming the source of a lot of his pain.

"Is that why you left?" she asked, finally.

He bit his lip, but then nodded. "I couldn't bear to see you and know you were leaving with him."

"And you were hurt," she told him, "and angry at me."

Jane sighed. "Yes, I was. When I found out you were leaving and everyone knew but me – I was both hurt and angry."

"So instead of telling me that to my face, you left."

He shrugged. "I was afraid I'd say something to you I'd regret and destroy what little we still had together. It was easier to be gone when you left."

"Oh Jane," she said, leaning forward and touching his forehead with hers. "I am so, so sorry to have put you through that – although you were still an idiot not to tell me how you felt."

"I'm sorry too," he said.

"Hey!" she sat up and frowned down at him. "You _still_ haven't told me how you feel."

He chuckled and reached out and took her hand in his, although he didn't answer right away. He was still feeling unsure and astonished by all that had happened. He hadn't expected Teresa to break up with Pike – he was sure they were a done deal. And he was especially shocked at her confession to him. It wasn't that he hadn't known she had feelings for him – there had been moments after all – but he didn't know she loved him, or at least that she would admit it to herself and to him.

How did he feel? Well, he loved her, of course he did – and he had for a long, long time. But he hadn't been ready _to_ love. At first he was too focused on his quest for revenge, then, when that was over he'd had to flee and had expected to be in exile the rest of his life. And since he'd been back he'd been dealing with restarting a new life. He had expected Lisbon to be _part_ of that life but hadn't really gotten around to what that meant.

And now it was, or could be, a reality. But did he _want_ that? Of course he did – he wasn't the idiot that Lisbon called him. But wanting and being able to were two very different things. He wanted her, he loved her – but he was terrified. He knew that if he went for this, for them, there would be no turning back. And he was once again putting himself into a position where he was vulnerable, for if he lost Lisbon he knew he wouldn't survive. He couldn't do that again.

But if he said no, then he would lose her any way.

"Jane?" she asked, sounding worried at his silence. Her uncertainty, her fear – the fact that she'd given up a good man, the potential for a good and stable life with Pike to tell him how she felt, and to be there for him when he needed her, once again – finally decided him.

He took a deep breath, trying to let go of his fears and instead go for what he wanted more than anything else in this world.

"I didn't?" he asked. "Well then – let me tell you how I feel. Teresa, you are an amazing, brave and fearless woman. You have been my rock and the person who kept me on the right path when it would have been so easy to fall off. When I did something foolish – which wasn't very often, I'd like to point out -"

"Hah!" she scoffed.

"If I may continue?" he asked sarcastically but with a twinkle in his eye. "When I _rarely_ did something foolish, you were there to pick up the pieces. I could always trust you and count on you to keep me safe." His face grew serious. "You kept me going when I didn't think I had anything to live for. You brought purpose and life back to me. You are a treasure, Teresa – you make me a better man and I am lucky to call you my friend."

"Just friend?" she asked softly and carefully.

"More than a friend – I hope," he told her. "I love you Teresa – and I never thought I'd ever be able to say that again – so thank you. Thank you for loving me."

They kissed again – this time not so tentatively or so gently, although they were still slightly unsure, slightly awkward. It would take a while for each to feel completely comfortable moving from friends to lovers.

By the time Teresa sat up, both of them were breathing heavily and looked thoroughly tousled. Jane closed his eyes briefly, trying to get his heart and other parts of himself back under control. If only he were not still recuperating! As it was, he felt exhausted from the emotional and physical turmoil of the last few moments.

Teresa stood up and looked down at him. Jane couldn't help but smile. She was totally disheveled, but looked adorable – and loved.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I wish I wasn't still so weak."

"It's okay," she told him gently, smiling down at him and once more pushing hair off his forehead. "In fact, it's probably a _good_ thing. It forces us to move slowly. We have a lot to learn about each other. Now – you need to take a nap."

"I'm _fine_ Lisbon," he frowned, moving comfortingly back to their old, bantering relationship. It was a slight relief from the intensity of emotions of the last few minutes and allowed him to reclaim some equilibrium.

"No you're not – and even if you _were_ , _I_ need to go out and get some fresh air. I was not planning on this," she gestured widely with her hand, "and I need a few minutes alone."

"You're not regretting -", he paused.

"Of course not, silly! I'm happy, Jane. I just need to catch my breath."

He grinned. "It's my kisses."

She laughed, but nodded. "Partly. Now _go to sleep_! I'll be back in a little while."

"Okay," he said, suddenly yawning. The fact was, he _was_ feeling incredibly tired. Like Lisbon, he hadn't been expecting what had happened and needed to process everything. While part of him was happy there was also a big lump of fear lying deep in his chest. He had to begin to process everything – and he couldn't do that when she stood there, distracting him.

He watched as she grabbed her purse and headed to the door. She turned around and blew him a kiss. The next moment she was gone.

And Jane settled down to figure out what the hell had just happened. He folded his good arm behind his head, and stared at the ceiling thinking about Teresa and his life. In the matter of a few minutes everything had changed. His heart still beat rapidly and there was still fear, but for the first time in a long time – a long, long time, something he thought might be joy was starting to seep its way into his heart.

With a small smile on his face his eyes slowly began to close and he allowed his love for Teresa and hope for a future to send him to sleep – and for the first time in years, to dream of happiness.


	21. Doubts and Fears

He woke up, to find Teresa asleep on the cot. He wasn't sure what time it was, although the shadows in the room indicated it must be close to evening.

His stomach rumbled, and he tried to move, but the relentless ache of his wounds cautioned him to be still. The fall he'd taken earlier that day hadn't helped and he suddenly wished for something to help dull the ache. He really didn't do pain at all well.

He turned his head and gazed at Lisbon as everything that had happened that day came flooding back.

She had told him she loved him. She'd broken up with Pike _because_ she loved him. He slowly shook his head. He had convinced himself that Teresa was no longer going to be a part of his life – that she had chosen Pike with whom to build a new life for herself.

As painful as that had been (and as hurt as he had been at her not telling him) he had understood. He had truly wanted the best for her. And the truth was, he'd never honestly believed that she would want him in that way – that she _loved_ him like that.

Oh, he knew she had feelings for him – had known for a long time. But he'd thought she was too wise to let herself fall totally in love with him. Because – he was honest enough to admit – he wasn't the best human being in the world.

But she had told him she loved him – and she'd given up the chance of a happy, _normal_ life for him.

Suddenly, the fear began to overwhelm him and he had trouble breathing.

He loved her – of course he did. He'd loved her for years, although it had come on gradually. For the first few years he hadn't been ready to love anyone – he was too damaged and still grieving for Angela. But slowly, over time, he'd begun to heal – and his feelings of friendship had turned to love.

Teresa was the person who had been with him on his journey – not just his journey for revenge – but his journey back to life.

So, how could he _not_ love her – passionately and totally! He knew that without her his life was meaningless.

For a brief moment today he'd been deliriously happy, on knowing that she felt for him what he felt for her. He was the luckiest man in the world to have won such a beautiful human being.

But now, reality was rearing its ugly head. What had he been thinking? Teresa deserved someone so much better than him. She deserved someone who was _good_ , someone who wasn't scarred and screwed up, someone who could give her all the things she deserved.

She didn't need a man who had little to show for his life, someone who had spent over ten years on a vendetta. She didn't need a man with no education, no real home and little to offer her other than his love and his loyalty.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He lay there in pain – both physical and emotional.

"Here," her soft voice startled him and he opened his eyes, to see her standing by the bed, handing him something and holding a glass of water.

"Your pain medication," she said gently. "You're hurting and you need it."

Part of him wanted to say no – to continue to suffer, since he felt he deserved it. But after a second's hesitation he nodded and took the pills and the water. He downed them quickly and then handed the glass to Teresa and lay back down.

After setting the glass down, Teresa lowered herself to the edge of Jane's bed and stared at him for a few seconds.

"Don't, Jane," she said, finally.

"Don't what?" he frowned, although he was pretty sure he knew what she was going to say.

"You're getting all worked up and are worried about us and about what's going to happen."

"Mmm," he shrugged, not wanting to agree, but knowing she'd catch him in a lie.

"I get it – this is new, and I'm scared too. But Jane – I _love_ you, and I'm not going anywhere."

"What if you – change your mind," he asked softly, his doubts rising to the surface. "What if you decide Pike's a better deal? He's a good guy – honest, hardworking - with a future. Me – I'm," he shrugged again.

Her eyebrow went up and she stared at him for a second and then she shook her head. "You're – _what_?"

"Not a very good deal," he admitted, softly. "I'm practically indentured to the FBI, I don't have an education, or anything to show for my life. I spent most of my life conning people until I lost my family and then I spent the next 10 years obsessed with vengeance. I've lied to you, tricked you and done a hundred other things to hurt you. I've left you and yet always expected you'd take me back without complaint."

She chuckled at that and reached out and gently put her hands through his hair. "Jane – I think you're a _great_ deal – and believe me, I know _exactly_ what I'm getting with you." She paused again and then looked at him tenderly. "I'm getting a kind man – an honorable man. I'm getting someone who hates injustice and always looks out for the innocent and vulnerable. I'm getting someone who doesn't suffer fools _at all_ and isn't afraid to say the truth. I'm getting someone who makes me laugh, who brings wonder to my world, who shows me things I normally wouldn't see. And I'm getting someone who loves _me_ – with all my faults – and who I know will always be there to save me. I can't imagine finding a better deal anywhere. And I'm _not_ going back to Marcus. It's over and we both know it was a mistake. I chose to stay with you."

He tried to take a deep breath, but it was shaky – not because of the pain he was in, but because he was overwhelmed by her words.

"Teresa," he finally said, softly. He reached out and she took his hand in hers.

"So, are you going to stop this nonsense and just relax? We have plenty of time to figure things out."

"You're sure?" he managed to ask.

She nodded. "Yes, I'm sure." There was a brief pause, and she looked rather uncertain. "But what about you, Jane. I know – I mean, I know you said you loved me, but – are you, do you -", she stopped, and sighed and put her hand through her hair.

"Tell me," he urged, gently.

"I know how much you loved your wife," she told him, speaking quickly. Biting her lip, she paused again. "I don't expect you to feel for me, what you did for her," she stopped again and then with a breath continued. "I just – I'll understand if you can't ever love me the way you did her."

Talking about his feelings – about his love for Angela, and now his love for Teresa, wasn't something that came easily to him. After his mother had died, his father had taught him to hide his true feelings – to never let anyone into his thoughts. He'd learned the lesson well and rarely, if ever, was honest about how he felt.

Except he had been with Angela. He had trusted her completely, and he had let her in to his mind and, more importantly, into his heart. But he'd lost her – and after that he'd closed off, even more, to people around him. There was no way he would ever open himself up again – because that way led to the potential for more hurt, more pain.

But slowly, over time, he'd opened himself up to Teresa. Like Angela, she was someone he knew he could trust completely. But now the question was – could he tear down the protective walls around his heart and welcome in Teresa, fully and completely.

Now was the moment of truth. He could go forward, or he could go back. He could let fear make the choice, or love.

He looked once more at Teresa, whose face was frozen, still waiting for his answer. He knew that she had armored herself and her emotions, waiting for his possible rejection. He could easily tell her that Angela still had most of his heart and that he wasn't ready for love. It would be the easy way out, the cowardly way out.

But it wasn't true. Oh- he did still love Angela, and he always would. But she was gone – had been gone for a long time. And the heart _did_ heal and could open itself to love. And he loved Teresa – with every part of himself, he loved her.

And now he had to make the decision: move forward, or end it now.

He closed his eyes, imagining his life if he said no to her now. He knew it would be a lonely one, a desolate one. He would go on, but it would be a half-life, with no hope and little joy. He would let fear take away any possibility of happiness.

And then he imagined if he told her how he felt about her, that she was everything to him. He would have a life with the potential for happiness, and companionship – but he would probably spend every moment of every day afraid that it could come crashing down.

Which life was better?

Jane slowly opened his eyes and looked at the woman he loved more than any other living human being. Although it had felt like a long time, he knew that only a couple of minutes passed since Teresa had asked her question. For her it must have seemed interminable as she waited for his answer.

He swallowed, knowing this moment would change his life forever.

He took another shaky breath and began to speak.

"Yes, I loved Angela," he told her. "She was the best thing that had happened to me and we had a good life together," he told her. "Then, when Charlotte came along, I knew I was the luckiest man in the world." He paused and licked his lips. He was no longer looking at Teresa, but had his eyes focused on his hands.

"But – as happy as we were, it wasn't perfect," he admitted. "She didn't like what I did, and wanted me to change – to do something worthwhile. But I didn't listen to her. I was more concerned about prestige and wealth than I was about my own family. In my arrogance I thought I knew best." He stopped and finally looked up, a crooked smile on his face. "You know how that turned out."

"Oh Jane," she said softly.

"I knew, after that, that I didn't deserve to love or be loved, and I knew I could never chance losing someone. I couldn't – can't live through that again."

"Jane," she said again, although this time she closed her eyes, looking lost and sad, sure now that there was no hope for them.

"I was also sure that I could never love anyone as much as I had loved Angela," he continued, softly. When she didn't look up, or say anything, he continued.

"I was wrong."

That did cause her to look up – her eyes wide with a glimmer of hope.

"Meeting you – having you give me something to do, bringing some purpose to my life meant the world. I don't know if you realize how you changed my life, that day you asked me to help find Winston Dellinger's murderer. That was the day that I started to heal, although it took years to get to a point where I could open myself up to loving someone again. But I have, Teresa," he said, so softly she could barely hear. "I'll always have scars, and I'll never stop loving Angela and Charlotte – but they're gone now, they're my past."

He gave her a crooked grin, although his eyes were shining with unshed tears. "And I discovered – that I _can_ love someone as deeply as I loved her, and I _do._ Angela was my first love – but you're my present and future love – if you'll have me."

Teresa smiled as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She leaned into him and laid her head on his chest. "Of course I'll have you, you silly man. Isn't that what I've been saying?"

He laid his hand on the back of her head and allowed himself to feel happy. He knew the fears would be back – but he had committed to this, to her – and he was going to allow himself to live and love again, with Teresa by his side.

"It is indeed, Teresa," he said, as he leaned down and kissed her head. "I guess it's time I listened to you."

"Damn right, Jane," she smiled. "Damn right!"


End file.
